


You Only Lie When You're Afraid

by Kimium, ObscureReference



Series: Mafia AU [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Awakening names used for the Trio, Flirting, Flowers, Gender Neutral Pronouns for Corrin, Getting Together, Gun Violence, Henry as Inigo's father, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Nohrian Family as the Mafia, Secret Admirer, Violence, dancer!inigo, part one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimium/pseuds/Kimium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Modern AU, Mafia AU. Part One.Inigo's life changes when one day, after a performance, he receives a mysterious bouquet from an anonymous patron.“I know basically what he does.” Inigo took a small sip of his tea. More than half of it was still in the cup. “Xander’s a business guy. Business interests or something.”“Like accounting?” Owain asked, head cocked to the side. “Or like trading stocks?”Inigo winced. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t know exactly what he does yet, but I haven’t really asked either.”“Whatever,” Severa said. “Sounds shady to me. I bet he works for the mob or something."“That would beamazing,” Owain said.Severa made a face. “No, that’d be dumb. Also, it was an exaggeration. I just mean it’s weird that you don’t know his job yet. ”





	You Only Lie When You're Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Kimium here! Look, another story co-written with ObscureReference! This story was a blast to write, largely in part with Obscure being an amazing co-writer! If you haven't checked out her works yet, please do! I love all of her FE Fates fics to pieces!!! I feel so blessed to once again work with her on a story! Please enjoy this fic and if you like, you can check out my tumblr [here](http://www.kimium.tumblr.com).
> 
> ObscureReference here! Another fic with Kimium written, and boy howdy, is it a long one. Part of a larger AU that Kimium wonderfully suggested. We'll see when the next one goes up. In the meanwhile, it's been a blast writing this with Kimium! She's really talented and has a lot of great ideas, so you should check out her fics too once you're done with this one! My own tumblr can be found [here](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com).
> 
> Also, if you're wary about any kind of violence in this fic because of the tags, you can scroll down to the bottom and there will be some vague SPOILER explanations. So don't scroll down that far unless you want to know (a) what you're getting into or (b) you want to be spoiled!

Putting on a performance usually followed a specific pattern.

Tryouts were brutal, a mix of anxiety, practice, sweat, tears, more practice, pounding hearts and fidgety fingers. Then, the tryout would creep up and smack you firmly upon the head, dulling all senses, leaving only instinct that was drilled in due to practice. At tryouts, they always performed in the theater. The stage was bright and the rest pitch black. Walking out and catching a glimpse blinded the eyes. In the front row sat the judges, always four, but their forms were obscured by the contrast of bright stage and dark everything else. After wobbling to the center of the stage and giving a strict introduction (name and position that was being tried out for) a judge would command the start. Music would then blare from the speakers mounted at either side of the stage, as well as overhead. The tryout would commence, the performer would perform, then end when the music ended. No words were said once the tryout was finished. A bow was all the salutation would need before exiting off stage.

At that point, everything would numbly rush back, but accompanied by a haze, like a thick film of oil poured over the memories. Lingering back stage for too long afterwards was considered rude, so heading off to the community change room to change and leave immediately followed next.

Then, exit the theater and breathe a sigh of relief.

Inigo never let out that sigh of relief until he was exactly twelve paces away from the door, as though distance would affect his luck. He’d then pull his phone out and immediately phone his mother, who always wanted to know how things went. It was a struggle, as the memory was blurry, so the conversation usually devolved into “I did my best” and “I think I did well” before the conversation ended with “I love you very much and I’m hoping for the best, sweetie” from his mother.

After the call Inigo would truly feel like the world had shifted back on track. He’d stuff the memory of the tryout in the back of his mind, not dwell on it for too long, and go do something else. Sometimes that something else was homework (even with one or two classes he had work to do) or his job at the local dance and costume shop a few blocks down. Sometimes that something was phoning up Owain or Severa and going out for food or a movie. Sometimes he’d see if someone else was free.

The wait time after the tryout was always a cautious mix of being busy enough that the mind didn’t linger on possibilities, and busy enough that he wouldn’t flop down dead from exhaustion. What ifs were the worse in the acting world. No one liked a performer who got too attached to a role, idealizing it. Those people burned out too fast, as the constant struggle to forever reach a possibly unattainable goal was as addictive and consuming as an addiction. 

Inigo tried to not linger on missed roles or getting cast in a role he didn’t try out for. Instead he would take what he got and move forward, letting the waves of life take him wherever he was destined to go.

In hindsight, maybe he should have steered a little bit.

 

~

 

Landing the leading role in their spring production was the highlight of Inigo’s month.

It was also the busiest time of his month.

Inigo had been dragged to practice after practice, after practice. He had been tossed from individual practicing where it was only him and the stage director, to massive practices with everyone, to practices with his co-star. Then, to top it all off, he had costume fittings, make-up trials, hair fiddling, and all of the extra things that look glamorous on opening night, but secretly were the bane of everyone’s existence up until that point.

However, the work put in always yielded the best results.

Before every opening night Inigo always took the day before off. He’d sleep in, eat whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, and laze around. He’d play video games or read or sit at his bay window and drink tea until he was warm inside and out. Sometimes he’d go out, just for walks, or perhaps to the local bakery every college student knew about. But whatever he did, he’d make a conscious effort to not think of the show.

The next day was when things really kicked into high gear. Last moment check ups for the stage, sound, and costumes, last moment reminders of that scene or this move and then the evening would soon be upon them. Inigo would limit his diet to light foods, soups, salads, granola bars, and tons of water. Then, as soon as the afternoon fell, he’d be whisked away to get ready.

It was how show business worked; hurry up and wait.

Inigo sat in his personal dressing room, touching the bouquet his mother gave him. Olivia had been the prima donna at the Regna Ferox theater, causing many patrons to donate, for media to flock to her performances, and for suitors to line up. It had been the shock of the star lit world when she had married a travelling performing magician with seemingly no wealth or status, but Inigo knew that Henry loved his mother with all his heart and soul. Then, after she got pregnant with him, she announced her retirement from the performing world, focusing on teaching and managing the stage.

Then, at only sixteen, Inigo had entered the exact same theater his mother had performed at and landed a role. It was minor, but it was still slightly publicized. The entire experience had been overwhelming and to this day roughly five years later, it still was.

Touching the flowers with his finger tips, Inigo smelt them, a collection of pink and white roses, pink for the vibrant colour of his mother’s hair and white for the snow-white contrast of his father’s. Inigo always received them for all his performances, six long steamed white roses and six long stemmed pink roses. Sometimes his friends would pitch in and give him a bouquet too. Their flowers always ranged in colour and type of flower. Inigo loved them all. He always took a lot of pictures and would scroll through them long after the flowers had died.

A knock echoed into the room. Inigo shoved his thoughts aside, “Come in.”

A head poked in, long pink hair, soft warm eyes. Inigo smiled, “Mother!”

“I’m here too.” Henry poked his head in after.

“Father.” Inigo stood up carefully, “You’re here.”

“Of course we are,” Olivia swept in gently, “We aren’t going to miss our little boy’s first solo performance.”

“Mom…” Inigo whined.

“You’ll always be our precious boy.” Henry firmly told him, “How are you feeling Inigo?”

“Anxious.” Inigo burst out, “A little nervous.”

“I understand.” Olivia smiled, “We know you’ll do well.”

“We’ll see you after the show.” Henry told him, “So don’t go running off.”

“I won’t.” Inigo said. Not that he could. He’d be killed if he did that. Press and interviews were awaiting him after.

“Good luck sweetheart.” Olivia didn’t make a move to hug him, something Inigo knew was killing her on the inside.

“Thank you.” Inigo steeled himself.

His parents gave one last warm look before exiting the room. Inigo felt his heart lighten a little bit. He could do this. Turning to his phone, he checked it one last time. Everyone had left little encouraging messages, ranging from serious to goofy. It all made Inigo feel breathless. Setting his phone down, he took one deep breath and exhaled. He had a show to do.

 

~

 

Everything ran smoothly for the opening night, no mistakes, everything perfect, and by the end Inigo was sweaty, but elated, his heart pounding on high mode as he and his fellow crew took their final bows before the curtains fell. At once things swung again. He was whisked away to clean up, get final touch ups, and change into his outfit for the evening. The suit was a gift from his parents a couple years ago, and Inigo treasured it all, even if he knew sooner or later he’d have to buy a new suit. It pained him, as a college student to consider spending that amount of money, but it was necessary for his current passion.

“How much time to I have?” Inigo asked his stage director.

“You have ten minutes. Best go to your dressing room and grab what you need now. Also, make sure to drink some water.”

“Right.” Inigo nodded. “I’ll be back.”

He whisked himself down the silent hall to his dressing room, grateful for the moment of silence and time to himself. Entering his change room, Inigo grabbed his phone and tucked it into his pocket, before getting a drink of water. The water bottle was icy cold and perfect down his parched throat. He was about to finish when a loud knock came at his door. Inigo set the water bottle down slowly.

“Uh, yes?”

The door opened. One of the staff members to the Regna Ferox theater stood there, holding a large bouquet. Inigo stared. This bouquet wasn’t like the ones his friends gave him. This one was large, created with gorgeous white lilies and deep red roses.

“Um…” Inigo stared. “I think you have the wrong room?”

“I’m afraid not.” The staff member huffed, her tone miffed, “It’s addressed to you.”

“To… me?” Inigo numbly repeated.

“Yes, to you.” She said again, “Where shall I put this?”

“Uh… the table?” Inigo pointed to the empty space, “Please?”

The girl set the bouquet down and turned to him. “It came with a card.”

A card? Inigo felt his heart jump as he reached out to accept the card. The paper was heavy, cream in colour with a delicate golden border around the edges. There, in beautiful calligraphy was a handwritten message.

_I’m an enthusiast of the arts and frequently attend performances. Your performance tonight was spectacular and took my breath away. These flowers are a token of my appreciation. I look forward to seeing more of your performances._

_-A secret admirer_

It wasn’t signed, but Inigo felt his cheeks rush with blood. This had never happened before… it felt like a cliché romance movies and books had, not something that happened in real life and to him of all people. Numbly he looked up at the bouquet. At some point in time the girl had left, leaving Inigo to his swirling thoughts. Leaning forward, Inigo inhaled the smell of the flowers, the earthly floral scent and felt his heart flutter harshly against his chest.

 

~

 

Inigo took the flowers home, of course.

There wasn’t much else to do with them. Leaving them in the dressing room overnight felt too cold, and it wasn’t like Inigo could tear his eyes away from them anyway. Even as he went out to greet his parents and take photos with the press, his mind kept wandering back to the secret admirer bouquet in his dressing room.

White and red, he thought. The white he was used to. The red was new. Especially the fact they were red _roses._  Inigo had always been thankful to the stray flowers his friends gave him in celebration from time to time, but he’d never received roses and certainly never like this.

He felt a bit giddy just thinking about it.

His mother had squealed with delighted surprise when he’d mentioned the extra bouquet after the press had gone, and his father had laughed and clapped him on the back. Inigo had chuckled along, bashful, but he kept having to drag his gaze away from the passing crowd and remind himself to live in the moment, not to wonder if every passing person had been the one to rush out and buy a bouquet for him so quickly. Had they even rushed? Had they come with a bouquet ready to give to whoever they thought performed the best? Had they known of Inigo ahead of time?

“It’s like I can hear you thinking from here!” his father said gleefully, the same wide smile on his face as always. “You’re just like your mother, you know that?”

Inigo and his mother had both stammered with embarrassment at that. His father had just laughed and said, “Ah, like mother, like son!”

After his parents hugged him one last time and Inigo waved them goodbye, declining their offer to drive him home, he all but ran back to the dressing room.

The bouquet was still there, right where he had left it. Something bubbly fluttered in his stomach, and Inigo couldn’t have hidden his smile if he’d tried.

He’d been too full of energy even after the show to let his parents drive him home, but after ducking his head in embarrassment as a few of the other more familiar dancers teased him on the way out, pointing at the large bouquet in his arms, somehow instinctively knowing it was different from the other flowers he or they had received that night, Inigo felt his energy start to wane.

He’d left his parent’s bouquet in the dressing room for good luck for the next night. It would have been unreasonable to walk with both home anyway, he’d thought. But the moment he stepped outside the doors of the theatre, the street dark and empty now that all but the few remaining cast and crew had left, walking home seemed very far away.

For a moment he considered getting coffee for an extra boost on the walk home like he occasionally did after a show. The he dismissed the idea. It was late, and he was going to crah hard the moment he made it to his bed. It was better that he make it home as soon as possible.

Bouquet in hand, soft petals tickling his cheek with every other step, Inigo began the walk home. His feet were heavy and sore, but his heart felt lighter than air.

 

~

 

There was no bouquet the next night, and Inigo didn’t expect there to be. It seemed selfish to expect a gift two days in a row, especially one as expensive as the admirer’s bouquet had been. Plus there was no real reason the admirer—if there really an “admirer” and not just a very kindly patron of the arts who wanted to be nice and frequented the shows anyway—would attend the same performance the next night as well either.

Still, Inigo couldn’t keep his stomach from twisting before he went on stage, wondering if the person who had sent the bouquet was out there, watching him. Inigo wanted to squint past the bright stage lights in search of some knowing look that would tell him who had given him the flowers, but the lights were too bright and there was no way he would have been able to guess who it was based off face alone anyway. Besides, the moment the music started and Inigo’s foot hit the stage, all of those thoughts melted away and he began to dance on pure instinct and practice.

Again, there was no new bouquet or new note from a “secret admirer” waiting for him in the dressing room. Not that night or the next or the one after that. Eventually Inigo stopped hoping for more. It was no use being heartbroken or expectant over somebody he didn’t know in the first place. And none of that seemed to matter when Inigo got home every night and saw the lush flowers waiting for him in the one vase he owned on the kitchen table. Every time Ingio walked in the door, he went to bed a little giddy.

It had been especially embarrassing when Severa had stopped by for a surprise visit and had all but demanded the story behind the roses and lilies when she spotted them. She’d immediately texted everyone else about it, of course. He’d received a dozen different messages over the next day ranging from congratulations to teasing to a series of eggplant emojis that had made Inigo throw his phone across the room when he saw them.

Owain and Severa were especially the worst about it. Their non-stop teasing for the next three days and the occasional wink emoji Inigo’s mother texted him before a show were incredibly embarrassing. Inigo felt his cheeks heat up with every new buzz of his phone. Their combined forces had caused Inigo to shove his face in a pillow to groan more than once.

It was embarrassing, yes. But a part of Inigo had been proud as Severa had gaped over the flowers as well.

 _He’d_ been the person who had wowed an audience member so much that he got a special bouquet. They said Inigo had _taken their breath_ _away_. Admirer or no, kindly elderly patron or something more, that was all Inigo had ever wanted.

So while he’d been caught up on the bouquet for a while, he’d gotten over it and kept the memory close in his heart even as the flowers began to wilt. It was a little sad when he saw the first bit of brown tingeing the edge of the petals, but nothing lasted forever. Inigo had taken a picture of the bouquet in full bloom and had saved that as his phone background. Even when he had to finally toss the dead flowers, he still kept the photo. It had been a nice gesture, and he hadn’t expected another.

Then the second bouquet came.

 

~

 

Once again, the bouquet came on the opening night of their show, right after his performance. This time it was their major summer production that lasted for two weeks. Due to the length of time, there were two entirely separate casts, set apart by cast A and cast B. Inigo was in cast A and thus in charge of opening night. Every year they switched which cast opened and this year it fell onto cast A. Inigo had once again landed a leading role, and the pressure was rolling thickly off his shoulders.

The press had been very generous in the reviews of their spring production, some of them paying particular attention to his performance. Inigo usually only read reviews specifically on himself a few times and always with a grain of salt (it was the only way to keep level headed in the performing world), but this time he read each review carefully. It was rather foolish of him, but Inigo had silently hoped he could pick out the writing style and spot his admirer. It wouldn’t be out there for the admirer to be a reviewer. The note had stated they were a frequent patron of the arts. However, no such luck, or at least from the reviews Inigo had read. At the time it had been slightly crushing, but now, as the same messenger entered the room holding a foreign bouquet, all the sleepless nights wondering felt distant.

This time, Inigo hadn’t tried to shoo the girl away, though mainly due to his heart pounding roughly in his chest. Instead he let her set the bouquet on his table beside the flowers from his parents and leave. As soon as she left,  Inigo went to examine the flowers.

The flowers this time were heather and red carnations. The purple pink of the heather and the deep red (though not as red as the roses, which were still his lock screen photo) of the carnations were artistically mixed with a variety of greens. All of this was arranged in a lovely crystal vase that in itself had to cost a small fortune. Inigo felt his cheeks warm and he lightly trailed his fingers down the glass. Neatly tied around the vase was a card in the same cream paper with delicate gold trimming. Inigo picked the card up and wished he had asked the girl to stay. Perhaps she knew who was giving him the flowers and would allow him to send a message of thanks. His heart pounded, and Inigo tried to imagine what he’d say. All he could think of at the moment was “thank you” and that sounded ineloquent to the note he previously got. That note sat in his desk at home, and Inigo was embarrassed to admit he had read it multiple times over and over. Opening the new message, Inigo scanned it, immediately absorbing the words on the paper.

_I was eagerly waiting your performance tonight and I was enraptured during the entire show. Please, accept these flowers as a token of my admiration for the work you labour at. I am certain I’ll be in awe at your next performance, just as I was the previous one and this one._

_-Your secret admirer_

_P.S. The vase is also a token of my gratitude._

Inigo thickly swallowed and felt his heart pound viciously at the last words. _Your secret admirer_ rang in his mind over and over. The words were a subtle change from before. This time the words implied an exclusive nature. Exclusive to him and him alone. The wave of pleasure that hit Inigo was dizzying. Setting the card down, Inigo steadied his breath and got ready for the reception, changing into his suit. Once he was ready, Inigo did his best to not think of the letter and focus on the press and media.

It was futile, but he got an E for Effort.

After the long reception and the parade of media and interviews, Inigo once again took the new bouquet home, leaving his parent’s bouquet behind for luck, and gently cradled the vase in his arms. This time he accepted his parents offer for a ride home (they both gave Knowing Looks and Inigo felt a flush fill his cheeks. Of course, they knew.) as Inigo knew if he walked there was a chance he’d trip and fall and ruin the flowers and the vase.

Once he was in his home, Inigo set the flowers on the table in the center. Pulling his phone out, Inigo took a couple of pictures, examining which one he liked better. When he selected the one, Inigo then changed his lock screen background.

 

~

 

The third bouquet was flush with purple orchids and white gardenias, and Inigo couldn’t keep from sighing over them as changed out of his sweaty costume into normal clothes again.

He’d half expected the bouquet now that he’d moved on to a new show, but the weeks had seemed to drag and rush by all at once and it had seemed arrogant to just _assume_ he’d find a third bouquet sitting in his dressing room only a few days after he’d had to throw away the last one. But here it sat, pristine and practically glowing under the fluorescent light, and Inigo couldn’t have been happier.

He snapped another picture and set it as his new lock screen before he ever picked up the card. It was instinctive. Looking at the new bouquet made him feel like there were stars in his eyes, and Inigo had fretted for much longer than necessary over a few ruffled petals when he’d walked home carrying the last one. He didn’t want to risk it this time.

Inigo fumbled as he stashed his phone away. He blamed the leftover adrenaline for the way his skin broke out in goosebumps when he reached for the gold-trimmed card that sat neatly among the greenery, but realistically he knew it was because he was eager to read what his admirer had to say. More praise? A name? An admittance that they had wasted their time on him? The swirl of excitement in his stomach was almost too great to overcome.

He began to read the crisp black writing on the card.

 _You were wonderful this evening_. _Truly, I was enraptured by what might be your greatest performance yet. Though that might be biased of me to say. Every time I see you dance it seems to outshine the memory of the last time. Thank you for this evening. I hope to see you again soon._

_-Your secret admirer_

Reading those last three words nearly made the entire note feel just as cheesy and cliche, but Inigo had always known he was a bit of a sucker for romance. Especially one with added mystery and intrigue. Enough low budget romance films watched for free on the couch with your mother for enough Saturdays would do that to anyone.

Now Inigo thought less about everyday suburban princesses and couples so in love they’d kill for each other and more about the smiling faces in the crowd as they left the theater. He wondered if the person who kept sending him such lovely bouquets ever walked by and barely missed him. Part of him wanted them to stop and say hello. Another part was glad they didn’t.

He reread the note two more times, each time slower than the last, savoring every word. His fingers traced over the ink.

Part of a letter smudged under Inigo’s index finger, making his heart leap. The ink was ever so slightly wet. The card couldn’t have been written more than a few moments ago, immediately after Inigo had taken his bow and walked off stage. There was no way a note like this had been prepped ahead of time, Inigo thought. He carefully tucked it away in his bag and prepared to leave.

Having an admirer was strange, in a way. Or in a lot of ways, really. It wasn’t like Inigo spent every waking moment thinking about a stranger he had likely never met. He sighed and cooed when he saw the fresh bouquets every time he walked into his apartment after a long day, and he clung to the little ball of pride that existed under all the embarrassed denials he sputtered whenever one of his friends teased him about a new set of flowers. But he also had a life outside the flowers and the lone note he received once every odd few weeks. He had papers and projects and rehearsals and friends. He had family dinners every now and again and the odd morning shifts at the costume store. It would have been impossible to spend every waking moment thinking about the same presents over and over again, no matter how lovely they were.

Inigo knew nothing about this admirer person. Not their name, their face, their interests—nothing. Anything he thought about them beyond their sweet way with words and their apparent love of Inigo’s dancing would have been entirely conjecture on his part, and he’d been made fun of enough by Severa to know where to draw the line.

He needed to stay in the real world. The world that was physically present and demanded a lot more of his immediate attention. If his secret admirer never came forward—and part of Inigo dimmed at such a sad thought, though another part was again relieved—it was probably for the better. He likely would just embarrass himself in his haste to say thanks anyway.

All of those thoughts were true. Definitely true. Inigo knew them to be true.

Still, that night, just like two other nights before, he walked home with a skip in his step and a bundle of flowers pressed closely against his chest.

 

~

 

Inigo stepped into the shop with bags under his eyes and enough change in his pocket to buy at least the tallest, darkest coffee the shop offered.

He looked bad. He knew he looked bad. He’d left the theater wearing the same stained jeans and slightly too small t-shirt he’d shown up to rehearsal in. The shirt may or may not have been one of Owain’s. Inigo could barely remember his own name at this point, nonetheless whose clothes belonged to whom.

It hadn’t necessarily been a _bad_ week, per say. But it had been a stressful one, and he was _exhausted._  And there was still work to be done. The pile of textbook chapters that needed to be read and homework papers that sat in the corner of Inigo’s desk said enough.

The fifth performance out of five of a relatively minor production had gone well. Maybe not as energetic as it should have been, which Inigo felt a bit guilty for, but it seemed the whole cast was feeling it too, not just himself. Something just felt off today.

Inigo checked his phone. It was nearing midnight. In a few minutes he could have truthfully said something had felt off “yesterday.”

He walked up to the counter with a barely repressed sigh. The barista looked as tired as he felt. It couldn’t have been easy to run a twenty-four hour coffee shop, he thought. There was a couple in the corner sharing a table that looked like they had been asleep on top of each other for hours.

He ordered something that sounded strong and immediately forgot what it was the moment the words left his mouth. The barista handed over some change and shuffled to work.

Minutes might have passed while Inigo stood there, staring blankly at nothing over the counter and wondering how much of a seven page paper he could finish before it was due in a day and a half, but he failed to notice anything happening at all until a someone cleared their throat over his shoulder with an “Excuse me.”

Inigo blinked heavily. He looked over. And then _up._

A very tall, very handsome stranger stood next to him. Inigo hadn’t even noticed him approach. The man was very tall and very blond and he had shoulders that Inigo thought would have been very nice to lay against and fall asleep.

His clothes were also rather nice. Nothing too fancy or anything that would have looked out of place at this time of night, but his white button-up shirt was absolutely spotless and his dark pants looked like they had been well ironed before use. His shoes looked like something a businessman might wear to an important meeting. Altogether, the man looked very well-kept.

Inigo blinked again, snapping himself back to the present moment. Somewhere on the other side of the counter, the barista seemed to be staring into space as well, hand hovering over a button on one of the machines.

“Pardon me,” the very handsome stranger who had suddenly made Inigo’s night a little brighter by just existing said. He sounded genuinely sorry and, strangely, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry to bring this up at such an awkward time and place, but…”

Inigo gathered up all his remaining energy and flashed the stranger a smile. “Yes? Don’t worry, I promise I don’t bite.”

The man chuckled like his comment was genuinely funny, so Inigo counted it as a win.

“My apologies,” the man said, a quirk of a smile on his lips. “I simply wanted to ask if you worked at the Regna Ferox.”

Inigo blinked. It was one thing to have his picture taken because he was the son of the woman who had once danced among the best and another thing entirely to be recognized out in public. He could probably count the number of times the latter had happened on one hand.

“Wow, I’m surprised you recognized me,” he said, feeling a little more awake and wishing not for the first time that he looked a little better. “Did you happen to see a flyer for our new show?”

It wouldn’t have been surprising since this was only the third night their most recent performance had opened to the public and the theater was only a few blocks down the street from the coffee shop they were currently both standing in, but the handsome stranger surprised him by saying, “In a way. I’m actually a frequent patron of the Regna Ferox. I attend every show I can when my work doesn’t get in the way."

Inigo perked up.

“Do you?” Most everyone Inigo knew had attended a Regna Ferox show at one time or another, but half the time they were there only to support Inigo and the other half consisted of people he worked with. Meetings with audience members came and went in fleeting moments, but something about this man had Inigo intrigued. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Inigo. I’m part of the cast for the _Il Ballo_.”

The man shook his hand.

“Xander,” he said. “And there’s no need to be modest. I recognize who you are. You’re the star who stole the show.”

Xander spoke so frankly and matter-of-factly that it took Inigo a moment to register the praise for what it was. When he did, he couldn’t help ducking his head with delight and squeezing Xander’s hand in surprise before dropping the handshake.

“That’s really kind of you to say,” Inigo said, pleased and self-conscious all at once.

“You stole my breath away the last three shows,” Xander said in the same plain way. Inigo felt his face get hotter with every word. “The way you move is truly stunning. Are you self-taught?”

“Ah, no,” Inigo said, a little caught off-guard. “My mother was my primary teacher through the years, though I’ve gone through several others as well. Of course I’ve practiced on my own as well, but in a way I’ve always tried to emulate her style. My mother’s, I mean. I—”

He was babbling, he knew, and was miraculously saved when the barista held out his coffee and blandly said, “Order up.”

Inigo took the cardboard cup with a grateful smile. The barista nodded back and returned to rinsing out one of the cups.

“My apologies,” Xander said when Inigo turned back to him. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t,” Inigo tried to reassure him. He took a sip of his coffee and immediately winced. Too hot. “I just didn’t expect it. And it’s been a while since I’ve had to talk about it to anyone who wasn’t…”

 _Who wasn’t a reporter_ , he meant to say. He stopped himself before he could finish, realizing belatedly how self-congratulatory it sounded. Everyone who really knew him knew Inigo’s background with dancing already, and everyone else was a reporter who usually wanted a follow-up on the great Olivia’s child, not Inigo in particular, though he usually got praised for his own merit as well. Most critics were brutal if he ever flubbed on stage. It was half the reason he worried about living up to his mother’s legacy so much. But it sounded bad to say to strangers anyway.

“Of course.” Xander nodded like he understood, not prying, and Inigo was instantly grateful. “I don’t mean to overstay my welcome. I simply recognized you and wished to relay my thanks for your dedication and hard work. You are always a pleasure to watch on stage. I’ll let you get back to your evening in peace now.”

He moved to leave, but Inigo, not really thinking, stopped him with a, “Hey, wait.”

Xander stopped, expectant. He wasn’t holding a coffee cup or any kind of stale muffin from behind the counter that Inigo could see.

“Didn’t you come in here to drink coffee?” Inigo asked.

“Ah. Well, yes, however…”

“Then you should order one,” he said. His own cup was still pleasantly warm in hand, and he felt a little lighter than he had when he’d first walked in. “Don’t let me stand in your way.” He winked, maybe a little more playfully than he should have. Oh well. “It seems like I’m not the only one running out of midnight oil, eh?”

“It seems not,” Xander conceded, and then he ordered his own smaller cup of coffee, darker than Inigo’s own.

“Late night?” Inigo asked while they both waited at the counter for Xander’s drink. The memory of the work waiting for him at home nagged at him, but he didn’t want to tear himself away just yet.

“Something like that,” Xander said. He shot Inigo an amused look. “You as well?”

Inigo sighed dramatically and was rewarded with an a slightly growing smile on Xander’s behalf. He pretended not to notice.

“It’s about to be,” he said. “I love working at the theater, but it’s a little killer on my sleep schedule some weeks. And I have midterms coming up as well.”

“You’re a student?” Xander said, sounding surprised. Apparently not much outside Inigo’s dancing career made it into the papers or flyers.

“Only part time,” he said. “Only three or six hours every now and again. I couldn’t work at the theater and be a full-time student.” _And_ hold odd shifts at the store every now and again, he didn’t add. “I probably won’t graduate for years at this rate, but.” He shrugged. “It’s worth it.”

“You’re very dedicated,” Xander said. “My own job keeps me busy most of the time, but I at least know I can rely on my family whenever I need the extra help.”

A family man then, Inigo thought. Now that he could picture it, Xander seemed the type. “What’s your work?”

“Business interests,” Xander said.

Inigo, knowing a more in-depth answer likely would have gone over his head, especially with how many hours of sleep he’d been lacking lately, nodded like he understood and grabbed another loose end instead. “You work with your family?”

“Yes,” Xander said, a new warmth in his tone. The family man imagery was becoming even more vivid in Inigo’s mind. “I have four siblings.”

“Wow,” Inigo blurted. “And here I thought my house was crowded when I had a sleepover with two friends at once.”

Xander looked interested. “You’re an only child then?”

“It’s always been the three of us,” Inigo said. “My mom and dad and I.” He quickly added, “But obviously I live alone now. Because I’m an adult.”

He hadn’t wanted Xander getting the wrong idea, but in his haste to emphasize his independence, he sounded even more ridiculous. Inigo ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly up at Xander.

“Sorry, I’m tired.” He raised the coffee cup as proof and snuck a quick sip. It was still warmer than he would have liked but bearable.

The barista silently held out Xander’s order. Xander took the cup without breaking eye contact with Inigo. It was pretty impressive and might have been intimidating if Inigo hadn’t also found it attractive.

“Well,” Xander said with deliberate slowness. “I hope you won’t mind if I walked you home then. Since you live by yourself. For safety’s sake, of course.”

“Of course,” Inigo said, only slightly strangled.

The barista shifted their weight just out of Xander’s line of sight and sent Inigo a thumbs-up. Inigo’s face felt hot all over again. He forced himself to look at Xander, who looked back, pleased.

“Shall we go then?” Xander asked.

Inigo followed him out the door. Xander held the front door open for him as they walked through.

 _Like a gentleman_ , his mother would have said. He told that part of his brain to quiet down.

“So,” Inigo said, walking into the warm night air and starting the journey back to his apartment. His heart was beating quickly, which wasn’t helped by how quickly Xander stood as they walked. “What are your hobbies outside watching musical theater and charming strangers in coffee shops?”

“Charming?” Xander echoed. “I fear you have been sorely misled if you believe some polite conversation nearing midnight on a work night to be charming. I could take you out somewhere nice and show you some actual charm, if you’d like. Preferably while we wear suits.”

“Suits?” Inigo said. “And where might you take me that would involve suits?”

“ _Giovanni’s_ for a start,” Xander said frankly. “Though I wouldn’t mind something more simple if that was more your taste. Perhaps a picnic if the weather were nice.”

Inigo paused. _Giovanni’s_ was a very upscale restaurant on the other side of town. In a place like that, suits were the minimum attire. He wondered how serious Xander was and what he did for a living to consider a place like that first date material.

“A traditionalist,” Inigo teased. He loved tradition.

“You may poke as much fun as you wish,” Xander said. “But I must warn you, I’ve heard it all from my siblings before.”

Inigo smiled. That was a nice train of thought.

“Tell me about them,” he prompted. “Your siblings.”

“Ah,” Xander said. “Let me think. Camilla is the oldest after me, and she’s quite doting once you get to know her.”

“Oh?” Inigo said.

By the time they made it to Inigo’s apartment, he’d heard all about Camilla and Leo and Elise and Corrin, who Xander seemed to love with all his heart even if he didn’t say as much. Xander even managed to coax Inigo into talking about his own childhood as well, and Inigo found himself sharing memories of getting his leg caught between rails on a staircase once as a child and being chased home by a neighborhood dog. He laughed when Xander said a similar event with a dog had once happened to him.

They made it back to Inigo’s building before he realized it, but Xander was stepping into the elevator before Inigo could tell him he didn’t have to. A comfortable silence settled over them in the elevator. Inigo had drained his coffee, and he clutched the empty cup with jittery hands. He felt like he had too much energy, anticipating too much. The exact opposite of how he’d felt when he walked into the coffee shop.

The elevator doors opened. They walked out.

“Well,” Inigo said, holding his key in one hand, empty cup in the other. He felt strangely awkward. “This is me.”

He looked down at his feet and then at Xander’s face. He looked back down again.

They were outside his apartment door. His very empty apartment. His very messy apartment that he might not have minded company in on a less busy night. The apartment Inigo wasn’t sure he minded company in _now._

But Xander, apparently just the gentleman he appeared to be, nodded and took a step back.

“Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of walking you home,” Xander said. “I appreciated the company.”

“Yeah,” Inigo said, a bit of disappointment sagging into his shoulders. Perhaps he had misread the situation after all or Xander was simply not as interested as he’d politely appeared. “Me too. Thanks.”

He smiled up at Xander and stuck his key in the lock, but Xander gently placed his hand on Inigo’s forearm before he could open the door.

“I was serious about the offer of dinner, you know,” Xander said. Inigo’s head snapped up. “If you wish. If asking about my family earlier was your way of turning me down gently, then I’m sorry to bring it up again. I just wanted to make myself clear.”

It had, and it hadn’t been. Inigo hadn’t been sure out there, out on the street in the warm night air, but now, standing in the cool gray hallway of his apartment complex and with an additional twenty minutes in Xander’s company under his belt, he felt certain.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, leaving his key in the lock and reaching for his phone. Xander pulled his arm away, but Inigo, smiling, could still feel the ghost of Xander’s fingers on his skin. “I would like that. What’s your number?”

Xander gave it to him, and Inigo texted him a smiley face.

“There,” he said. “Now you have mine.”

Xander was handsome and sweet, and he looked more than satisfied when the phone in his pocket buzzed from Inigo’s text. Inigo felt wide awake.

“I’ll call you,” Xander said, and with anybody else Inigo would have assumed he meant “text” instead. But, no, something about Xander said he’d really call. Surprisingly Inigo didn’t think he’d mind. “Thank you again for the lovely walk.”

“Be safe walking home,” Inigo said. “Or to your car, or… wherever.”

Xander’s smile shifted with amusement. “Thank you for your concern. I will be.”

He half expected Xander to offer something like a goodnight kiss goodbye, but instead Xander said goodbye one last time and Inigo let himself into his apartment. He thought about lingering and waiting with Xander as he called the elevator back up but thought that might have been awkward, so he just went inside and locked the door behind him.

The pile of unfinished assignments still sat on Inigo’s desk and it was now dangerously closer to one in the morning than midnight, but Inigo found he didn’t mind so much anymore anyway.

 

~

 

It turned out that Xander worked fast. Inigo hadn’t asked for a time frame in regards to their dinner date, but he hadn’t thought of it at the time. Sleep deprivation and worrying over assignments and tests was the mythical key to forgetting to ask the important questions. Of course, the next morning Inigo had considered texting Xander and politely asking, but all of the wording he came up with felt pushy and rude, so he hadn’t texted. However, the minor panic due to his minor lack of forethought was entirely unnecessary.

Inigo had been taking his much needed day off from practice and attempting to focus on the assignments and tests before him when his phone went off. The tune was a cheerful tune, something his mother had danced to once upon a time. Hearing the sound go off when unexpected nearly caused Inigo to jump out of his seat, made even worse when he saw the number and the name on the screen. With a lunge that nearly caused him to knock his books off the desk, Inigo grabbed his phone and answered, gingerly holding the phone with two hands.

“Hello?” Inigo tried to still his beating heart.

 _“Hello, Inigo?”_ Xander’s voice sounded warm and Inigo could practically see Xander’s smile.  _“I hope this isn’t a bad time?”_

“No, it isn’t!” Inigo squeaked. His papers, on the other hand, might have protested to that statement—if papers could talk, that was.

 _“I’m glad.”_ Xander sounded genuine. _“I wanted to inform you of our dinner plans. I booked a table at Giovanni’s at six-thirty on Friday. I can come pick you up, as parking around there is limited. I was thinking of getting you at around six?”_

Friday? So soon… Inigo stared at his calendar that hung directly over his desk. It was Wednesday. How had Xander booked a table so soon? Not that Inigo was intimately familiar with _Giovanni’s_ , but he had heard from others how difficult booking and making reservations was.

“You mean this Friday?” Inigo couldn’t help but ask, even if he felt a bit foolish.

 _“Yes, I do,”_ Xander confirmed before he paused. _“Is that a bad time? I could always phone back and rebook…”_

Oh no. Inigo flailed his arm, the one not holding the phone and quickly shoved his words out of his mouth in a jumbled mess. “I, um… That’s not what I meant. I was just… making sure.” He softly added, feeling a flush fill his cheeks.

 _“That’s perfectly fine,”_ Xander told him smoothly. _“Always best to double check. And picking you up at six isn’t a problem?”_

“No, no, it isn’t,” Inigo replied.

 _“Excellent.”_ Xander chuckled. _“I’ll see you then. Also,”_ Xander continued, _“Please make sure to wear a suit and tie. Giovanni’s has a strict dress policy.”_

Right. That Inigo knew. He nervously glanced towards his closet, to the only suit he owned. It would have to do. Perhaps he could ask his father for a different tie, just so he looked like he had a variety. If Xander had attended multiple performances, then he had probably went to the receptions as well. Inigo didn’t want to look lazy for his first date in months.

Date. The word hit Inigo solidly over the head. He had an actual date. With an attractive, polite, genuinely interesting man. It felt too good to be true, but Inigo wasn’t going to worry. He was going to remain positive and go into the date naturally. His conversation with Xander on the way back to his apartment had been natural, and Inigo hoped that a change in venue and intention wouldn’t hinder anything.

“Yes, of course.” Inigo broke out of his thoughts quickly, hoping his silence hadn’t come off as rude. “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll see you on Friday…”

 _“Oh, also,”_ Xander once again politely cut him off, _“I was thinking, and this is entirely up to you, but tomorrow I have some business at the side of town you live in. I was hoping, after my meeting, we could go for coffee? It doesn’t have to be a particularly long endeavor…”_

Inigo’s face was now flushed and burning. A coffee date too? This felt like some sort of dream come true. He looked at his pile of papers. If he went for coffee, chances were he’d feel unmotivated to work before hand due to anxiety. Friday was also shot due to the date and again, anxiety plus anticipation would make him a jittery mess. Oh well, a little incentive was good.

“Sure, I’d love that.” Inigo smiled. “What time are you thinking?”

_“Is eleven in the morning all right? And at the same coffee shop?”_

It was a good thing Inigo didn’t have practice until Sunday. “Yes, that works for me.”

 _“Fantastic.”_ Inigo could feel the beaming tone of Xander’s voice, _“I shall leave you to your day then, Inigo. I hope I haven’t taken too much of your time. I look forward to tomorrow as well as Friday.”_

“Me too.” Inigo softly breathed, “Have a good day as well.”

The line softly clicked before nothing. Inigo pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at the blinking number and name, indicating the dropped call. Smiling to himself, Inigo set his phone down and forced his brain to focus. He had incentive to work now. As much as he wanted to roll in the euphoria of not just a dinner date, but also a coffee date, if he didn’t finish his assignments, he’d be screwed.

 

~

 

Eleven o’clock rolled by too fast and too slow for Inigo. Even though he managed to find the concentration to work the entire previous day, Inigo’s mind hadn’t stopped from wandering and daydreaming. The past couple of days felt like a blur of fortune and luck. Inigo hoped it kept up because he didn’t want to mess his chances with Xander up.

Heading extremely early to the cafe, Inigo arrived a good twenty minutes early. With nothing else to do and fear of getting side tracked, Inigo went into the cafe and awkwardly sat at a table, attempting to not stare out the windows in hopes of spotting Xander. Forcing himself to fiddle with his phone, Inigo idly scrolled down his feeds on various social media. Owain had a post complaining about Political History, and Inigo was very glad he wasn’t taking a class with a boring title like that. Severa also had a post, her weekly review of some beauty product. This time it was a new type of lotion. Inigo made a small bookmark and vowed to read it later. When Inigo finished going through his phone he still had about ten minutes to wait. He didn’t want to order too soon, but he also felt awkward sitting around with nothing. The cafe had a strict policy on loitering, and Inigo didn’t want to get in trouble.

The door to the cafe opened, and Inigo was once again saved. Xander stepped in, wearing a crisp suit and tie. Inigo felt his face flush at the perfection, at the lack of wrinkles. Xander had said he was a businessman, so it made sense for him to wear a suit, but Inigo hadn’t really imagined Xander in a suit until the image smacked him upside the head. With Xander’s leather briefcase, he completed the common image of a businessman and that only made Inigo’s heart flutter faster.

Xander spotted him immediately and walked over, a smile on his lips. Inigo smiled back, hoping his heart wouldn’t burst from his chest. Suddenly, up close, Inigo felt very underdressed in his jeans and shirt. The shirt was a gift from Severa though, so the designer brand had to help a little bit… plus the jeans he was wearing weren’t torn or stained or ripped in anyway.

“I’m sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting long.” Xander sat down.

“No, I wasn’t.” Inigo assured him. “I was just early.”

“Earlier than me.” Xander smiled.

“It really wasn’t a problem,” Inigo protested, “I don’t mind.” Quickly, he stood up and pulled his wallet out. “Please, let me buy us coffee.”

“I should be the one saying that.” Xander said, “I made you wait.”

“You’re already driving me to dinner tomorrow.” And from the sound of it, buying them dinner too. “I don’t mind. Please, let me buy you coffee.”

Xander looked at him for a moment, before he nodded, “All right. Thank you very much, Inigo. I’ll just have their dark roast, nothing in it.”

Inigo nodded. “Anything to eat?”

“I’ve eaten a large breakfast.” Xander shook his head, “Thank you for the offer though.”

Inigo gave one more smile in return and then walked up to the counter. The line wasn’t too long and when he finally ordered, he also ordered a blueberry muffin with his coffee. When the order was filled, he carefully brought everything to the table, setting Xander’s coffee in front of him before sitting down.

“Thank you again.” Xander picked the mug up and sipped the coffee, “How has your morning been?”

Besides fretting and worrying over their little coffee date? “Fine,” Inigo answered, “I worked a ton yesterday on homework. It’s mostly complete. So this morning I took it a bit easy. We have a rehearsal on Sunday, so I should rest up now.”

“A rehearsal?” Xander’s eyes widened. “So soon after your last show?”

Inigo smiled and broke a bit of his muffin with his fingers, “It’s not so much a rehearsal as a review of our show. What we did well, what we can improve on… so we can take all that into consideration for our next show.”

“Interesting.” Xander’s eyes were honestly sparkling, “I’m unfamiliar with how the show business works."

Inigo flushed, “Sorry, I know it might be boring…”

“No, it isn’t.” Xander assured him smoothly, “If I may ask, how long does preparing a production take?”

And with that Inigo found himself opening up about dancing and the world of the stage. Each time he spoke, Xander always paid complete attention, never wavering. His questions were prompting and perfect for leading the conversation. By the time Inigo was done, an hour had passed and it had felt like fifteen minutes. Embarrassed that they had mostly discussed dancing for so long, Inigo hastily took a sip of his coffee and quickly changed the subject.

“Enough about me.” He lightly said, “How was your morning?"

“Ah,” Xander tapped his long fingers on the coffee cup, “Elise insisted on making breakfast this morning. She’s been watching cooking shows lately. It turned out rather well.” He smiled fondly, “Of course, because she cooked we were roped into doing the dishes.”

“Same with me.” Inigo gasped out, “When my family cooks, I’m always doing the dishes.”

“Dishes turned into a bubble fight when Leo accidentally dropped a plate into the water.” Xander laughed, “It almost made me late for my meeting, but I managed.”

Inigo smiled and tried to imagine it. How did Xander’s siblings look? Were they all tall with blonde hair? Or was there a variety? What did his siblings do? Did they help with business or was that just Xander? Inigo wanted to ask, but it felt a bit too early to do so.

“Sounds lively,” he said instead.

“It is.” Xander agreed, “But that makes my days exciting and gives me something other than work to worry about.”

“Too true.” Inigo sighed, “But speaking of work… I’m not keeping you from it, am I?”

“No, you aren’t.” Xander said, but as he spoke he glanced at his clock, “Though my siblings might be wondering where I am. I told them I was going out after the meeting, but I don’t think they expected me to take this much time.” He stood up, “I truly enjoyed your company for this hour, Inigo.”

Inigo stood up as well. “I enjoyed it too.”

“I’m glad.” Xander reached out and lightly touched Inigo’s hand, “I hope you don’t think I’m running off. I had a lot of fun here with you. Work and family are just calling.”

“That’s fine.” Inigo tried to not arch into the touch, “I’m seeing you tomorrow as well.”

The smile that Xander gave burned Inigo’s heart. “That I am,” he muttered softly.

For another moment, Inigo was sure Xander was going to lean in and kiss him goodbye. His lips tingled in anticipation, but Xander merely gave his arm a light squeeze before pushing his chair in.

“Would you like a ride back to your apartment?” He asked.

What a gentleman. Inigo opened his mouth to say yes, but then he shook his head, “I don’t want to inconvenience you. Best not keep your siblings waiting.”

Xander opened his mouth, but then shut it softly, “Okay. Then safe walk home, Inigo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His hand brushed Inigo’s one final time before they walked together to the exit. Inigo’s lips were still tingling, and his hand ached to grab Xander’s hand. Instead he walked outside and turned to the direction of his apartment, waving goodbye to Xander one final time before he left.

 

~

 

As Inigo predicted, his anxiety and anticipation the following day rendered him unable to think of anything else except “I have a date!” He had woken up early with that thought at the front of his mind and proceeded to spend half an hour staring at his closet in a desperate attempt to find something appropriate to wear to dinner. Sure, he had the suit jacket and the pants, but the shirt and the tie had to be different. Inigo went through no less than ten shirts and six ties before he found a pair that matched.

But that was only half of his day. With nothing else to do, Inigo attempted to distract himself, but the pressing feeling of “I have a date!” drove all of his actions throughout the day. Inigo’s textbooks remained closed, his notebooks sat in their pile on his desk, and household chores were done in attempt to mindlessly shut his mind off. It didn’t work and Inigo found himself glaring at his dishes like they were the source of his inability to concentrate. At the end, Inigo just sat on his couch, idly going through his phone. He made sure to read Severa’s review on the lotion. Then when he couldn’t bare sitting around, he stood up, pushed his coffee table to the side, and began to stretch.

The repetition and familiar burn of his actions helped steel is mind and ground him. Inigo shut his eyes and went through his routine warm up. When his body felt loose and warm, Inigo began to lightly hum a tune and danced. His movements weren’t part of any production; rather, they were absent minded motions and twirls that he had long learnt, ever since he could stand and walk properly.

Working out always helped calm his mind down. Sweaty and satisfied, Inigo went to his washroom and proceeded to have a long shower, washing his hair, taking his time. When he finished, Inigo felt a little better and ready for his date. Glancing at his time, Inigo sat down dried his hair properly. He had the time and he was going to look his best for his date.

 

~

 

Xander was exactly on time for him. As soon as his phone turned to six o’clock, an expensive European car pulled up at the base of Inigo’s apartment. Inigo had scrambled to the door, hopping into his shoes, and double checking he had everything (phone, wallet, keys, gum, some lip chap from Severa). Inigo was just scrambling to lock his door when the elevator at the end of the hall dinged and the door opened, Xander walking out. Inigo nearly dropped his keys at the sight. First and foremost, Xander had come up to get him, like a gentleman would, rather than waiting in the car. Next Xander was wearing a suit that was even nicer than the suit Inigo had seen yesterday. Instead of the suit being entirely black, this suit was a charcoal grey, complete with a vest, a burnt beige shirt, and a vibrant blue and purple toned tie. A flash of gold dangled from the vest’s pocket and Inigo saw a chain. Was that a pocket watch? Finally, Xander’s shoes were clearly an expensive leather shoe and they glistened in the cheap florescent light of Inigo’s apartment hallway. Suddenly Inigo felt a flush of embarrassment, one he didn’t feel the last time Xander was present in his apartment building. Xander looked so polished and posh that he contrasted so starkly with the apartment.

 _“Like that matters.”_ Inigo’s internal voice scolded, _“He’s interested in you and you are in him, so relax. He came up to get you too!”_

He… came up to get him. Inigo suddenly felt something slot awkwardly in his brain. How had Xander come up to get him? Last time Xander had followed him, so it was Inigo who let him into the apartment building, through the locked outer door. This time, however…

“Good evening, Inigo.” Xander was all smiles, “My apologies for surprising you like this. I did go to ring you down…” He then paused and his eyes lit up, “Ah,” he then flushed a little bit, “I suppose you’re wondering how I got up here?”

Was it obvious? Inigo flailed a little bit. Here he was wondering the small things when really the answer to his question had to be obvious. Xander went to ring him down and someone had been leaving or coming inside and just let him in. Really, Inigo couldn’t complain; if someone as attractive as Xander had asked him to do the same thing, Inigo would do it in a heartbeat.

“One of your tenants, Mrs. Wilson, was leaving on her evening walk and spotted me attempting to work your paging system. She just let me in.”

Oh. So his suspicions were correct. Inigo flushed and immediately saw the little old woman in his mind. She had always been kind to him, especially after he had helped her with her groceries one day. If anyone would let someone in after admitting they were affiliated with him, it would be Mrs. Wilson.

Then Inigo flushed harder when he realized he hadn’t told Xander how to work the paging system in his building. It wasn’t something he had to explain often as most of his visitors were his family or Owain and Severa, and they knew how to work it like the back of their hands. His unconscious assumption was that Xander would wait for him in the car and just call or text, but he was wrong.

What a way to start his date.

“Inigo?” Xander’s voice was soft.

Inigo threw the thoughts away and gave his best smile, “Sorry, I was just surprised. Good evening to you too Xander.”

Xander gave a warm smile and gently offered his arm, “Shall we head off then? I parked in a loading zone, and I don’t want to have any troubles arising.”

Inigo cracked a smile, “Don’t worry, they don’t really pay attention to the sign.” He took Xander’s arm delicately.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Xander replied before they walked off.

Seeing Xander’s car up close was better than at a distance. Inigo admired the sleek paint job, the polished look, and the interior the moment Xander opened the door for him, because of course Xander opened the door for him. Inigo stammered a thanks and gingerly sat in the passenger’s seat. It was made of real leather and were extremely comfortable. Inigo tried to move as little as he could lest he accidentally break something.

Xander got into the driver’s seat and with a push of a button the car roared to life. Soft classical music played through the speakers and Xander reached to turn it off, but Inigo stopped him.

“It’s fine.” He earnestly said, “I enjoy classical. My mother has CD stacks of classical. It’s what I learned to dance to.”

“Ah, very well.” Xander moved to shift the car into gear, “But feel free to change the song if you wish. I’ll let you be in charge to the music tonight.”

Inigo eyed the dashboard and the variety of knobs and buttons and gave a shaky smile. His parents had been driving the same old car for a few years and of an entirely different model than Xander’s. Everything felt foreign, and Inigo didn’t want to mess anything up. Instead he bunched his hands into his pants. (Before realizing that would crinkle the fabric. Inigo hastily let go of his pants and set his hand against his side.) Xander hadn’t noticed, as he had started to drive, to which Inigo was thankful. His awkward silence outside his apartment was already embarrassing enough; he didn’t want Xander to see how fried his nerves were.

“You look lovely tonight.” Xander suddenly said, voice soft over the classical music.

Inigo looked at his worn suit and his tie and fiddled a little, “Thank you. You do too.”

Xander flushed a little bit, “I’m going to be honest, Elise and Camilla insisted on helping me today. I’m always grateful for their help.”

That was… adorable. Inigo tried to think of what would have happened if he had Severa helping him change and he shuddered. Once was enough, thank-you-very-much. He hadn’t even had the courage to phone his father up and ask for tie advice or if he could borrow one. That would have caused explaining, and Inigo didn’t want to explain to anyone that he was going on an expensive date with the most handsome guy he’d ever met.

“Though,” Xander’s cheeks were pinkening, “They did tease a touch.”

“Typical of siblings.” Inigo offered, “I may not have siblings, but I do have friends. Those can be just as bad.”

Xander chuckled, his gaze warm, but also never looking away from the road. “Tell me a bit about your friends?”

Inigo leaned into the leather seat. What to say without babbling too long? “I’ve known them for most of my life. My two closest friends and I played as children, and we’ve always been very close to each other. Of course, I don’t see them often, with dancing and them being in school, but we try to make time to visit.”

“That’s just part of growing up.” Xander sagely mused, “But it’s fantastic when you can keep connections.”

Connections. Inigo nodded and let the classical music fill the space where sound was supposed to be. The traffic was becoming heavier and Inigo didn’t want to be a distraction, though Xander was driving with expert care. Once they got through a rather congested intersection, the traffic thinned a little and they turned a corner smoothly, effectively getting away from the main road. Ahead was the restaurant, brightly lit, gorgeous design, and large. Xander smoothly drove up and stopped the car along a large half circle. At once a worker from the restaurant stepped out, opening the door for them.

“Valet service, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” Xander smoothly answered, handing over a bill that Inigo couldn’t see the value of.

Inigo stepped away from the car and towards Xander, who gently offered his arm again. Blushing at the gesture, Inigo took it, feeling his heart flutter. They walked slowly, side by side, into the restaurant.

The interior was more breathtaking than the exterior. Inside the walls were richly coloured, with warm wood and high chandeliers. The tables lay artifully separated by gorgeous greenery and flowers. Along the wall ran a well kept, large fish tank, with a variety of colourful fish swam around. The lighting in the dining area was dimmed, but not so dark it was a hindrance to a meal.

He walked them over to the large podium at the side where a waiter was standing along with sheets of paper. Xander immediately spoke, and it wasn’t a language Inigo recognized. Italian? French? Inigo numbly stood and waited as Xander and the waiter conversed for another moment before Xander turned to him.

“Sorry.” Xander gave a small smile, “I was just confirming our reservation. We’ll be escorted soon.”

“All right.” Inigo laughed, a bit nervously, “I wasn’t entirely sure…”

Xander paused and he bit his lip slightly, “Oh, no need to worry. The staff here all speak English, it’s just…” He gave a sheepish grin, “I lived in Italy and France for a few years of my life growing up. I like using opportunities to use the language. Use it or lose it, as they say.”

That made sense. Inigo felt a bit of awe well inside of him. Was there nothing Xander wasn’t good at? He had lived such an interesting, rich life. Inigo had taken a little bit of French in school, but that was ages ago. A lot of things had fallen to the side with Inigo once he decided to pursue dancing seriously. It almost made him feel inadequate to be beside Xander at this restaurant, but then Inigo remembered: Xander was the one to ask him out in the first place. Hanging onto that, he felt a little bit better.

A waitress came around for them, leading both to a well secluded table hidden by lush plants. Inigo watched as Xander pulled his chair out for him and flushed a deep red. Xander was a perfect gentleman. Slowly Inigo took his seat and gingerly sat down. Xander then went to take his seat, opening the tall standing menu. Inigo couldn’t read a word of it, but he knew it was a wine menu.

“Do you drink?” Xander politely asked.

“I do occasionally,” Inigo answered.

“Do you have a preference?”

“No…” Inigo tried to not let it be known he barely had a grasp on the different kinds of wine. All he knew was red went with red meats and white went with not red meat. “I’m willing to try anything at least once.”

“That’s a good attitude to have.” Xander smiled, “First though, let’s see what we order to eat. That will determine our choice.”

As if on cue, the waitress returned with two menus. Inigo opened it and froze. It was all in another language with no descriptions and no prices. That meant this place was Expensive. Sure, Inigo knew _Giovanni’s_ was an upscale restaurant, but he didn’t know how upscale. Freezing in his seat, Inigo bit his lip, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. How awkward. He couldn’t just discreetly ask the waitress to help him or translate on his phone. Xander would notice.

“My apologies," Xander suddenly said, his voice soft. “Perhaps… I should order for the both of us? I’ve been here a few times in the past, and I can assist you in choosing your dish.”

The offer was both a relief and embarrassing. Inigo shyly nodded and listened to Xander read off the names of the dishes and offer a translation and idea of what the dish was. Inigo felt his heart flutter at the gesture and soon he picked a dish with Xander’s help. When the waitress came around, Xander did all the talking, ordering for the both of them, voice melodic and smooth as he slipped into another language. Once the ordering was done, the waitress took the menus and exited smoothly, leaving them in peace.

“I also ordered dessert,” Xander admitted. “It’s a special on today, chocolate eclairs with vanilla ice cream.”

“Oh, wow. Yes, thank you.” Inigo felt his mouth water at the idea. “Those sound amazing.”

“They are.” Xander assured, “Elise and Corrin are dessert experts, and they…”

Xander cut his story short as someone politely walked up to the table. Inigo turned his head and gaped as a waiter stood, holding a large bouquet. This bouquet was made up of camellia flowers and white roses. Inigo couldn’t feel anything as the waiter softly spoke to them.

“Sirs, this bouquet was just delivered for one Inigo Campana?”

“That’s… me.” Inigo weakly confirmed.

The waiter gently handed the bouquet to Inigo, “If you like, sir, I can fetch a vase for your flowers.”

Inigo swallowed and looked at Xander. Xander spoke something softly, in a different language, and the waiter nodded before leaving with a small bow. Inigo inhaled, smelling the sweet scent of the flowers and examined them. They were wrapped in a white paper with a beautiful blue ribbon tying it all together. Some greenery also stuck out, and the composition was gorgeous. At once Inigo felt his heart flutter. Besides the flowers at his shows, no one had given him flowers on a date.

“These are beautiful,” Inigo told Xander, “Thank you.”

“Yes, they’re beautiful.” Xander agreed with a soft smile, “However, they are missing something.”

Missing something? Inigo tried to scan the flowers, but Xander suddenly caught his attention by dipping his fingers into his inner suit jacket pocket. Slowly Xander pulled out a square piece of paper. It was creme in colour and had a delicate gold border. Inigo felt his heart stop and his mind screech to a harsh hault. Time slowed as his brain slowly processed what was in front of him. Xander stood up and carefully walked over, slipping the piece of paper into Inigo’s hand. With the paper and flowers together, Inigo’s brain kick started brutally and he gasped out.

“You’re the one.” Inigo’s voice felt faint. “You’re my… admirer…”

Xander nodded and then quickly tapped Inigo’s shoulder, touching him lightly. Inigo forced his gaze away from the paper and the flowers and stared at Xander.

“I want to make something perfectly clear.” Xander said to Inigo, “I invited you out for dinner because I am genuinely attracted and interested in you. While I do enjoy your dancing, I invited you out on this date because of who you are as a person.”

Inigo felt his cheeks burn and he could only silently nod. Xander’s hand left him and he returned to his seat. “I thought long and hard about how to tell you.”

Inigo forced air though his lungs, “So, when you met me at the coffee shop…”

“That was a coincidence, I promise.” Xander assured, “I was at a business dinner, and it went late. All my intention was when I entered that coffee shop was to buy coffee for my drive back home. I won’t deny I struck up a conversation because I recognized you, but everything else afterwards has been entirely because of you and your personality.”

This felt too good to be true. How long had Inigo spent wondering about who his mysterious admirer was? How often had he saved photos of the flowers and stared at them afterwards? It had gotten so bad that family and friends lightly teased him. Yet, Inigo had never expected it to go anywhere, except the small fantasy of someone coming up after a show and confessing. But this… for his admirer to not only enjoy his dancing but also was interested in him? It felt like something out of a cheesy rom-com.

And yet, he knew Xander was sincere. Even though Inigo hadn’t known Xander for a long time, he could feel it. Xander wasn’t one to lie or beat around the bush. He was honest and straightforward. This was a display of not just honesty, but also affection.

Slowly Inigo pulled his phone out. Xander watched him intently, but didn’t say anything. Unlocking his phone with one hand, Inigo carefully held the flowers out to Xander.

“Hold these please?”

Xander did as he asked. Inigo took a picture, half standing so he had an artistic angle. He then sat down and changed his lockscreen.

“Thank you.” Inigo said, half grinning as he shyly showed Xander his screen. “You know, I always changed my lock screen to the flowers you sent me."

“You did?” Xander sounded extremely pleased. “And… the cards?”

“I kept them.” Inigo admitted before he stared at the new card.

He hadn’t read it yet. Looking at Xander, as though gaining permission, he then opened the card and read the note.

_To Inigo,_

_Please accept these flowers as a token of my budding affection towards you. I’ve hidden behind anonymity with my other bouquets, but with this one I won’t hide any more. Your company is extremely enjoyable and I hope we have many more dates together, should you wish for us to continue this courtship._

_-Xander Nohr_

The letter would have been cheesy or cliche from anyone else, but from Xander, it was only sincere and honest. Inigo felt a wide smile spread across his face and he clutched his flowers, now not anonymously given, to his chest carefully.

 

~

 

The date went well.

It had gone better than well, actually. The date had been _fantastic._

Inigo had stared at his new bouquet for neigh on ten minutes before Xander suggested that he maybe place them on the edge of the table so they could look at each other instead. He hadn’t seemed at all bothered by Inigo’s enrapture with the flowers and the notecard Inigo kept fiddling with the corners of as they spoke, at least; in fact, Xander seemed rather pleased. But he also had a good point, and when Inigo collected himself enough that he could keep tear his eyes away from the flowers for more than three seconds at a time, the conversation had continued to flow smoothly.

It had been hard, for a moment, to reconcile the image of both Xander and Inigo’s secret admirer in his head. But the “admirer” had never left anything but short notes and lovely flowers behind, no false images or hints for Inigo to build a new creature upon, and Xander’s new bouquet should have really tipped him off from the start. All the flowers Inigo had received from him so far had been more than generous. So while, yes, there had been a brief moment where Inigo hadn’t been sure what to do with himself with this new knowledge, Xander’s honesty had quickly sunk in and Inigo had accepted it.

He’d charmed Xander without even realizing it, both onstage and offstage. He’d wowed Xander enough to inspire gifts that Xander had apparently never planned to do more with besides offer up in admiration of Inigo’s talents. And Inigo believed that part, believed Xander would have never asked for more or approached him under false pretenses. Xander really had just been trying to pay him a genuine compliment in the coffee shop that night.

But then, as Xander had explained, the rest had been all Inigo. Not the dancing or the spotlights or the costumes but simply Inigo—plain and exhausted and holding a cup of coffee in a little nowhere midnight cafe. The rest had all been natural.

Inigo appreciated the honesty. He could see why Xander hadn’t come right out and said, “Hey, I’m the guy who keeps sending you bouquets after your shows, and now you and I are basically alone in this shop together.” That would have been weird and awkward and just what Inigo had been worried about happening in the first place. But this? Xander coming clean with a new note and a fresh bouquet in the middle of the fanciest restaurant in town? _That_ was romance. That was the kind of story Inigo would have loved to share with their kids someday.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. It was pretty early to be thinking about any kind of steady commitment at this stage, nevertheless _kids_. Inigo was still rather young, and they were still getting to know each other to really be thinking about any of that. It was probably the honeymoon phase of getting to know Xander that was infecting his brain along with the abundance of pollen that now permeated Inigo’s apartment. But it was a nice thought that sat in the “what-if” section of Inigo’s brain.

And, _oh_ , the _date_.

Dinner—which had turned out to be a very fancy looking chicken spaghetti once Inigo got a good look at it—had turned out to be much more delicious for a stuffy looking place than Inigo had expected. It was no wonder Xander had chosen _Giovanni’s_ to make a good impression, because it certainly had. Dessert had somehow been even better.

“Oh my god,” Inigo had moaned around a spoonful of ice cream. “Is this homemade?”

Xander’s lips had curled around his own spoon. “I believe so, yes. I know the pastry chef personally, and I believe she always makes her desserts from scratch.”

“Seriously?” Inigo had whined. They had just finished discussion some of Xander’s memories from when he had lived abroad for a while in his childhood—little things, as Xander could not remember so many details from so long ago, but still more firsthand experience than Inigo had ever had. “Is there anything you _don’t_ know?”

Xander knew chefs, he knew the best restaurants, he knew at least one other language—the more Inigo got to know Xander, the more certain he became that Xander knew a little about everything.

But Xander had only smiled and said, “Well, I’m not much of a cook, if that counts.”

“Good,” Inigo said, triumphant. “I might have you beat there. I can at least make spaghetti.” He thought back to their dinner. “Maybe not as good as the spaghetti here, but it’s still food.”

“We’ll have to make some together sometime,” Xander said. “You can show me how. Or we can try a new recipe and improve our skill sets together.”

Inigo had sighed around another spoonful of ice cream. He’d thought he’d known what his mother had meant when she said his father had swept her off her feet, but Xander was whole new level.

He seemed to enjoy Inigo’s company though, and that was what Inigo liked the most. They talked a bit more about their families—Leo’s attending the same campus as Inigo, Inigo’s history with his father’s magician props he’d found stuffed into his closet as a child, and so on. Inigo mentioned his own mother and father again, but when he steered the subject towards Xander’s, the most Xander would say was that his mother had been his father’s first wife and then gently asked something else about Inigo’s childhood. Inigo got the sense it was a sore subject and decided not to pry just yet. Not everyone had the same lucky relationship he had with his own parents.

When dinner had finished and Xander had ignored Inigo’s offer to split the bill (which may have been quite lucky, considering Inigo’s silent fears that the cost was a bit more than his wallet could take), they walked outside and found Xander’s car waiting for them.

“Wow,” Inigo said, sliding into the passenger seat, bouquet in hand. “It’s like they were watching us to know when to bring the car around.”

“I’ve heard it’s become more common for valet services to do that these days,” Xander said easily, nodding to the valet attendant as they drove away.

Since Inigo mostly ate takeout or cooked simple meals in his kitchen, he figured Xander would know better than he did.

He hummed. “That must be difficult to keep up with on really busy nights.”

It was a Friday, but while _Giovanni’s_ had a decent crowd, there hadn’t been an overwhelming number of people. Nothing like what Inigo would have dreaded when he worked in food service as a teen. But _Giovanni’s_ was the type of place to require reservations and looked expensive to boot, so maybe that had been their version of a dinner rush. The smaller crowd certainly helped keep the atmosphere calm and quiet.

When he said as much, Xander nodded and said, “Yes, that’s likely part of it.”

It was a little late by the time they made it back to Inigo’s apartment. Not terribly late. Nothing that would have made any roommates send him questioning looks in the hypothetical situation where Inigo had any. But it was closer to nine o’clock than eight, and Inigo figured they had a bit of time to spare. He almost invited Xander up for some tea when Xander grabbed Inigo’s hand from where it rested between the seats and kissed the back of it.

“I have had a very lovely evening with you,” Xander said, still holding Inigo’s hand. His eyes looked very dark in the dim streetlight.

Inigo, too caught off guard, forgot what he had been about to say. “Yes!” Xander’s fingers were warm on his skin. “I mean, yes, me too. I had a very lovely evening as well. Thank you.”

“So I take it you would not be adverse if we did this again?” Xander asked. Inigo would have thought he sounded almost hesitant if he hadn’t known any better.

He smiled, a bit of cheekiness shining through nevertheless. “Not if you don’t have a problem with it.”

“Good,” Xander rumbled. He let go of Inigo’s hand. Inigo adjusted his grip on the flowers, and he didn’t miss the way Xander’s eyes trailed over to where Inigo’s now free hand rested on the car handle.“I’ll call you later then? Tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Whenever is best for you,” Inigo said, his heart beating a mile a minute. _Don’t look too eager,_ said a voice way too much like Severa’s. “There’s no rush.”

Xander nodded. “Tomorrow then.”

Inigo got out of the car. He was very aware of Xander’s eyes on his back as he typed in the apartment passcode and opened the door, and he flashed a smile through the window as he waited for the elevator to arrive. Through the dark tinted windows of Xander’s car, he thought he saw Xander smile back.

 _Tomorrow_ , Inigo thought in the elevator. The bouquet weighed heavy in his hands. He made sure to plug his phone in as soon as he walked in the door.

The last bouquet his secret admirer—Xander—had given him had wilted enough that Inigo didn’t feel too bad tossing it in the garbage and placing the fresh flowers in the vase in their place.

Inigo looked at his phone screen. The photo of Xander holding the flowers, looking up at Inigo just a bit sheepishly, stared back at him. He thought it was a very lovely picture overall, and not just because of the flowers.

 

~

 

Xander’s call hadn’t been a surprise this time. Mainly because Inigo had glued himself to his phone, never letting it out of his sight. The volume had been turned up just in case. So when his phone rang, Inigo didn’t jump, though his heart did flips and twists as he answered, pressing the phone against his ear.

 _“Good morning, Inigo.”_ Xander’s voice was warm and rich.

“Good morning, Xander.” Inigo smiled and held his phone closer, not moving, as though if he moved the connection would break. “Did you have a good night?”

 _“It was pleasant.”_ Xander answered, _“Yours?”_

Inigo thought back to his sleep, how he had lay in bed, staring at his phone, at the picture of Xander holding the flowers, unable to look away. The memory of their date had circled in his mind, swirling in a light bubble of happiness inside Inigo’s heart. Falling asleep had been a bit of a challenge as all Inigo wanted to do was roll around in the memory. Still, he wasn’t going to admit that to Xander. That was embarrassing.

“I slept well,” Inigo told Xander.

 _“I’m glad to hear.”_ There was a bit of shuffling at Xander’s end, _“I was just reading the paper.”_

Oh. So that was the source of the sound.

_“And I saw that the Rosewood Art Gallery has a new exhibit starting today. I was hoping, if you had some time, you could accompany me?”_

Another date. Inigo flushed at the words and then his brain processed the words. Rosewood Art Gallery. It was located downtown and was very posh, very prestigious. Any artist who got into that gallery was said to be on the road to success in their career. Inigo had gone there once during an outdoor gala with some of the dancers at Regna Ferox as guest performers, but he had never gone to the gallery as an actual guest. Inigo felt another flutter in his chest.

“I’d love to go. When are you thinking?”

_“Unfortunately, today I’m busy, and tomorrow you’re at a rehearsal.”_

Inigo felt warm at the fact Xander remembered his schedule.

_“Is there a day this week you’re free? I don’t have any meetings except on Wednesday, and that’s an early morning one.”_

Taking a quick glance at his calendar, Inigo tried to sort out his days. Monday was another rehearsal and Wednesday was a class day…

“Tuesday?” Inigo suggested. “I’m free.”

 _“Tuesday it is.”_ Xander agreed, _“Afternoon? I can come get you at one?”_

And he offered to pick him up again. Inigo felt a warm flush fill his cheeks, but he shook his head, before remembering Xander couldn’t see that.

“No need to worry. I have some errands to run. I can meet you at the gallery.”

 _“Very well.”_ Xander didn’t push, _“I’m looking forward to our date.”_

Our date. Inigo wanted to bury is face in his hands and squeal at the words. He managed to remain composed, “I am too.”

 

~

 

Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough. Even though Inigo told Xander that he had errands to run, he managed to run them quickly and once again ended up in front of the art gallery fifteen minutes too early. Not willing to walk into the gallery just yet though, Inigo stayed outside and tried to not look awkward. He pulled his phone out to check if there were any messages from Xander, but his phone was blank. Stuffing it into his pocket, Inigo looked around. There were a few stalls around the area, selling food and drinks. It was tempting to go buy a coffee as he waited for Xander, but Inigo wasn’t sure if he’d finish it on time. The gallery didn’t allow drinks, and Inigo wasn’t going to embarrass himself by making Xander wait on him.

Slumping as casually as he could against a corner so he didn’t look strange, Inigo absentmindedly people watched, hoping to catch a glimpse of Xander. However, with the amount of people milling around, finding someone to focus on before someone else came into his vision made his task difficult. Inigo gave up and was about to look at his phone again when he heard a polite cough.

Xander was beside him. This time he wasn’t in a suit (Inigo was both relieved and disappointed), but the make of his pants and his shirt screamed tailored and professional. Inigo tugged on his shirt and gave his best smile. Xander didn’t seem to care what he wore and would never judge him for it. Besides, they had met while Inigo was sweaty and gross and exhausted, and he had still charmed Xander enough to get the offer to be walked home.

“Hello, Xander.” Inigo smiled.

“You’re early again.” Xander mused, “Or I’m just late?”

“You’re not!” Inigo immediately protested, “I just finished my errands early, see?” He lifted a bag.

“Oh?” Xander looked at the label. “Magician’s Corner?”

“It’s a gift for my father.” Inigo explained, “I saw it and thought of him.”

“I see.” Xander said, “What sorts of tricks does your father do?”

“Ah.” Inigo scrambled to think, “Illusions?” He paused, “I’m… not too sure… it’s a mystery, but that’s how it’s supposed to be. There are still tricks he performs that I have no idea how he does them.”

“Interesting.” Xander’s eyes lit up again. “I’d like to see his magic some day.”

That sent a whole different kind of flutter in Inigo’s chest. Meeting his parents. The image that gave Inigo practically sent his mind racing. That would be the ideal… bringing someone home to meet the family. That would imply a serious relationship.

“Ah, my apologies.” Xander coughed, “I don’t mean to sound… presumptuous.”

“Oh no, you didn’t!” Inigo immediately said, “I’d… like that some day… and I’m sure my father would too.”

Xander beamed softly and then lifted his hand. Inigo swallowed and took it, prepared for the fingers to enclose his own. What he wasn’t prepared for was Xander pulling his hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it, mimicking what he had done at the end of their dinner date.

Inigo flushed hard. At the end of their dinner date was one thing, where he could go hide in his room and mentally flail over the gesture. It was an entirely different story for Xander to kiss his hand at the beginning of a date in public.

“Shall we?” Xander dropped Inigo’s hand from his lips, but hadn’t let go of his hand, though his grip was slack. If Inigo wanted, he could have broken away.

He didn’t.

 

~

 

It had been a long time since Inigo had gone into any real museum or gallery instead of milling about outside for some other event. His parents had certainly taken him to museums in passing as a child, and there had been the occasionally odd field trip for school, but Inigo hadn’t actually gone inside any kind of historical building in quite a long time.

Admiring the sculptures and paintings felt different as an adult. The gallery was probably a bit more Owain’s speed, if Owain could get away with creating an elaborate backstory and “secret” mystical powers for every exhibit they came across without being shuffled along too quickly, but Inigo found himself admiring some displays more than he’d initially thought. He’d always immersed himself in dance as a form of art, but after walking around the gallery for a while he was reminded by how much he enjoyed other forms of art too.

Xander was the reason he had as much fun as he did, though.

They were going slow, Inigo knew. Despite the passing thought to invite Xander back up to his apartment the other night, all Xander had offered so far was a kiss on the hand. They were holding hands at the museum, of course, but even that felt a bit slow for two adults who were supposed to be dating.

Inigo found that he didn’t particularly mind, however. There was the part of him that wanted _everything_ —the overeager part of Inigo that he was always having to quash, the part that wanted to jump from the rooftops whenever Xander called and wanted to wrap itself around Xander’s arms whenever they were together and wanted some things Inigo couldn’t say.

But he found he didn’t mind going slow. He wasn’t sure if that was Xander’s natural speed or if Xander was taking his time out of some deference to what he believed Inigo wanted, but it didn’t matter much either way.

They passed by a very fancy looking vase in a glass container and stopped to read the placard at the base of the podium. When Inigo squeezed Xander’s hand, Xander glanced over at him and squeezed back.

Inigo beamed. He was content with where they were.

“I’m a little sorry I didn’t come here sooner,” Inigo said absently after they had milled about from room to room for a while. “This place is much larger than it appears from the outside. The art here is amazing.”

He was looking at a rather large painting across the room, but he was also thinking about the woman he’d seen earlier with perfectly dyed pink and blue hair. The gallery really was full of interesting sights, he thought. Every time they entered a new room, he found himself somehow more impressed than the moment before.

“It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?” Xander agreed. “I’m happy to have shared this experience with you then. Have you not been to a gallery or museum before?”

“Not in a while,” Inigo admitted. “There was the dinosaur museum when I was a kid.” There had likely been other exhibits, but the dinosaurs were the part Inigo remembered the most.

“Oh?” Xander sounded intrigued. “And how was that?”

Inigo shrugged with a grin. “I remember taking a good look at very large skeletons with the very pointy teeth and hiding under a bench to cry for a while. My parents had to crawl under the bench to get me to come out.”

Xander made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choking.

“You can laugh,” Inigo said, chuckling a bit at the noise. “It happened years ago. It’s funny. Didn’t you ever do anything ridiculous as a kid?”

Xander’s mostly neutral mask had begun to crack. He shook himself out of it, but Inigo could still see in the amusement around his eyes.

“Forgive me,” Xander said. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but there was a tension that seemed to have left him that Inigo hadn’t noticed before. “You’re right. The things we do as children are often ridiculous.” He looked down at Inigo. “Though I don’t believe I ever cried under a bench.”

Inigo puffed out his chest with a fake pout. “Hey, those skeletons were scary! I was pretty tiny as a child, you know. Any one of those dinos could have come to life and eaten me right up, and then where would be we?”

“I’m sure they could have,” Xander said, still clearly amused.

Inigo squeezed his hand again, rolling his eyes with a smile. Relaxed and easy, they kept walking.

 

~

 

They had to cut the date short when Xander got some kind of terse phone call he had to walk alone into the corner to take, but Inigo assured him he didn’t mind taking the bus home by himself. Xander offered more than once that driving him home would have been no trouble at all, but he was also frowning and Inigo could tell he was busy, so they parted ways outside the gallery. Inigo figured it was a work thing. The thought crossed his mind that Xander had been taking a lot of time to meet him in the middle of the day recently, and he hoped Xander hadn’t gotten in any kind of trouble for it. He didn’t bring it up though, since it felt rude to pry. Instead he said goodbye to Xander at the bus station and went on his way.

Cutting the date short was also convenient, however, since the extra time meant Inigo could meet up with some friends before the afternoon was out. He’d realized sometime last night that it had been a while since he’d seen somebody outside the context of work or a date with Xander, and while Inigo liked dates with Xander a lot, he did want to discuss them with somebody outside his own head. The dates had been too fresh and Inigo too unsure to mention Xander over text before now in case their relationship went nowhere, but suddenly Inigo was practically vibrating out of his skin to bring him up to somebody. Talking to his mother was one thing, but he was excited to discuss Xander with someone new.

Severa was the type to roll her eyes as Inigo’s gushing or make fun of the fact he’d actually managed to land a second date with the same person for once, but she was also one of his closest friends and he still texted her first on instinct.

It turned out she was free for the afternoon and was, in fact, with Owain at that very moment. Inigo realized he hadn’t seen Owain in a while either. He could kill two birds with one stone by meeting them both.

So he did.

“Wait a second,” Severa said after Inigo had more or less recounted everything that had happened in the past few weeks, including Xander being the secret admirer she and Owain and everyone else had teased him about so badly. The sunglasses perched on top of her head glistened in the sunlight. “First of all, why is this the first time I’m hearing about all this?”

Inigo squirmed in his seat. “I told you, I’ve been busy. Besides, it didn’t feel right over text.”

“But you _always_ talk about your failed dates,” Severa pointed out. “I can’t ever get you to _stop_ talking about them.”

“Rude,” Inigo said. He took another sip of his tea. The air of the outdoor patio they were sitting in felt warm, but not enough to drive them back inside. The sun was bright in the cloudless sky.

“It’s probably because the date wasn’t failed this time,” Owain chimed in. There was a smear of cream cheese on his upper lip, and he didn’t seem to notice when Inigo mimed wiping it away. “He’s probably been too nervous. You didn’t even do the asking this time, right?”

Inigo said, “No, I didn’t, and no, I haven’t been too nervous,” even though that was exactly why he hadn’t said anything before.

“ _Secondly_ ,” Severa said, playing with the straw of her mostly empty drink. She and Owain had been all but finished by the time Inigo had gotten there. “You said you don’t even know what this guy does?”

“I know basically what he does.” Inigo took a small sip of his tea. More than half of it was still in the cup. “Xander’s a business guy. Business interests or something.”

“Like accounting?” Owain asked, head cocked to the side. “Or like trading stocks?”

Inigo winced. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t know _exactly_ what he does yet, but I haven’t really asked either.”

“Whatever,” Severa said. “Sounds shady to me. I bet he works for the mob or something."

“That would be _amazing_ ,” Owain said.

Severa made a face. “No, that’d be dumb. Also, it was an exaggeration. I just mean it’s weird that you don’t know his job yet. ”

Owain ignored her, already too caught up in whatever fantasy was unspooling in his head. His eyes were wide.

“Consider,” he began. “You said he has a lot of money, right?”

Inigo said, “I don’t really know that.”

“I bet he’s some kind of vigilante,” Owain continued. “He sneaks around town at night in his slick car filled to the brim with gadgets you failed to notice because you were too enamoured with the sight of his dark eyes in the moonlight.”

“Absolutely not,” Severa said, already sounding finished with the conversation.

Owain’s hands moved in wide, sweeping gestures as he spoke. He hit his hand with his fist like he’d realized something. “That’s how he stumbled upon you that night! There, in the darkness, a murder barely averted! A criminal with stolen goods caught in the act! Our antihero is ragged, injured, successful with the night’s work, but what’s that in the distance? There, through the rain—”

Severa said, “Why is it suddenly raining in this story?”

“ _Through the rain_ ,” Owain narrated, “he sees it. There, a streetlight shining like a halo from the gods. And in it, one Inigo, tired, graceful, ethereal. Not in need of saving, maybe, but perhaps—”

Owain paused theatrically and Inigo took the opportunity to say, “Please stop.” The air had suddenly warmed by ten degrees.

“Perhaps possessing the love that can save our antihero instead,” Owain finished, clenching his fist and closing his eyes to add to the drama of the scene. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of applause.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Are you done yet?”

Severa and Inigo’s voices overlapped. Owain looked around, seemingly realizing he had gotten out of his chair at some point during his speech, and sat back down. Severa shook her head while Inigo grimaced. The foursome at the only other occupied table who had been quietly chatting amongst themselves a few minutes previously finally turned away and began to gather their things to leave.

Inigo refused to meet any of their eyes. Owain looked proud.

“Thanks,” Inigo said flatly. “Alternatively, have you considered the fact Xander probably has a normal job at an office somewhere, and we just haven’t talked about it yet? We’ve only been on, like, two dates.”

“Three dates,” Severa reminded him. “Coffee date, dinner date, and the gallery date today.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Plus the night you met, which is still suspicious, to be honest.”

“It was a coincidence,” Inigo said.

Inigo worked in a theater. He was pretty sure you couldn’t fake the type of honesty he’d heard when Xander had confessed to it all.

“Doubtful,” Severa said. Inigo made a face. “But anyway, you’ve talked for literal hours now, and he hasn’t brought up work on his own. Doesn’t he have a normal job like the rest of us? That’s just suspicious. _Especially_ since he keeps taking you to these fancy places.”

“The art gallery in town is practically free,” Inigo said. “It’s public domain.”

Owain made a noise of disagreement. “ _Giovanni’s_ sure isn’t.”

“What he said,” Severa agreed. She fiddled with her straw some more, wrinkling her nose. “Anyway, don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

“Not really,” Inigo said, just as Owain said, “Not if he’s some kind of Bruce Wayne.”

Inigo looked at him, frowning. “What?” He shook his head. “Nevermind. He’s not Batman or whatever.”

“But we don’t _know_ that.” Owain sounded much too excited for it to be true.

Severa rolled her eyes. A beam of sunlight glinted off her sunglasses.

“Look,” she said. “I’m happy for you, or whatever. I’m glad things are going well with this prince dude who’s basically swept you off your feet.”

Inigo blushed. “He hasn’t—”

Owain placed his palms on the table and said, “An _evil_ prince—”

“Will you drop it with the—”

“ _But_ ,” Severa cut in, raising her voice to be heard over both of them. “I’m just saying, maybe you want to get to know him a bit better before you decide to get married or something equally stupid.”

Inigo bit his cheek and averted his eyes. He knew he was the type to fall head over heels, but he didn’t think he’d been _that_ obvious. Apparently not, though.

He blinked himself back to reality when he felt Owain’s hand on his shoulder. Owain looked back at him, his face a bit serious.

“Severa has a point,” Owain said, dropping the theatrics in his voice and sounding normal for once. “Maybe take it slow until you get to know this guy a little more. Then when you know he’s not secretly an axe murderer or anything, you guys can get hitched.”

Inigo huffed.

“You don’t even understand how _slow_ we are going right now,” he said. He quickly added, “And no marriage! I’m too young to be married yet!”

“ _Yet_ ,” Severa echoed.

The look on her face was pure evil. Inigo groaned.

Then the image of Xander in a suit for a wedding crossed his mind. Xander had looked _very_ good that night he’d taken Inigo out to dinner. Inigo could still picture him well.

Inigo’s infatuated expression must have given him away, because when he glanced up again, Owain was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“ _Come on_ ,” Inigo whined.

Owain laughed, and for one awful moment he sounded a little like Inigo’s father. Inigo buried his head in his hands with a heavy groan.

“That’s the spirit!” Owain said, clapping Inigo on the back.

Severa took another noisy slurp of her empty drink, pulling her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Owain, wipe your mouth already. You’ve had cream cheese on your lip for twenty minutes.”

“Aw, seriously? Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

There was a bit of shuffling as Owain reached across the table for Severa’s napkins. Inigo pulled his head out of his hands.

Watching Owain wipe his mouth, Severa said, “I just did.”

Inigo sighed. At least the cream cheese was gone. “Why can’t you guys just listen to me talk about a hot guy I’m dating and be normally supportive for once?”

“I thought we were being supportive,” Owain said, balling the used napkin up in his hand.

“Making him out to be a creep instead of a really handsome, considerate guy who likes me back isn’t very supportive.”

Severa shrugged. “I’m trying to look out for you, but if you don’t want to listen, then I’ll just look really stunning at your funeral.”

“Wow,” Inigo said. “You sure do know how to make a guy feel loved.”

Owain eyed him. Then, after a beat, he stuffed his napkin into his empty pastry bag and looked at Severa.

“Hey,” he said. “How are things going with that girl you’re chatting with online?”

Severa flushed, and Inigo perked up. It had been a while since he’d heard about this, and now that the excitement of gushing about Xander had taken a more realistic turn, he was up for a quick change in topic.

“We’re not dating!” Severa said hastily. “I don’t even know what she looks like. We’re just friends.”

Owain wiggled his brows again. “Just _friends_ or—”

“We talk about makeup,” Severa protested. The sunglasses covered a lot of her face, but her flustered expression was still clear as day. “That’s it.”

“Really?” Inigo joined in. “Is that all?”

Severa grumbled something under her breath. Inigo winked in her direction only to get another balled up napkin thrown at him in response.

Severa was probably right, he knew. Owain too. Not about the Batman thing. Xander probably really did have a normal office job somewhere. Inigo could picture him in some kind of managerial position. Xander had the right type of serious and responsible personality for it, he thought. But it was true that they still needed to get to know each other a bit more. Talking Xander was easy, but he let Inigo do a lot of the talking a lot of the time too. They still had a lot to learn about one another.

So Inigo resolved to asked more questions. He knew a lot of secondhand information about Xander’s siblings by now and it was still too soon to be meeting anyone’s family, but he could still ask about Xander’s job next time they met. About the work day and what Xander did and what Xander liked to do aside from apparently visit galleries and go to the most expensive restaurants in town.

They could see a movie together or something, Inigo considered. He didn’t even know if Xander preferred comedies over other action movies or other standard things like that yet. They had a long way to go still, and technically they hadn’t even made anything official yet. But Inigo was willing to do the work.

Listening to Owain and Severa chat, now jumping back and forth between sales and school and the fact Severa’s parents still refused to move out of their cabin and into the city, Inigo resolved to ask more pointed questions the next time they met.

But when the time came for Inigo to meet Xander again, the idea of prying into his work life had slipped Inigo’s mind.

 

~

 

Grocery shopping was one of Inigo’s favourite chores. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but it was probably a combination of hunting for ingredients and the endless possibilities that flowed to his mind. Cooking wasn’t his best skill, but Inigo liked to think he was somewhat competent. Humming to himself, Inigo grabbed the last things he needed for fish and a tasty pasta dish complete with tomato sauce when his phone rang.

Inigo nearly jumped at the sound, the basket on his arm swaying as he screeched to a halt. Pushing himself a far away from the isle as possible, Inigo desperately dug into his pant pocket. He hadn’t turned his phone on silent and the heat on his cheeks was enough to cause him to almost drop his phone in his panic to get the sound to stop.

“Hello?” Inigo hesitantly answered.

 _“Hello, Inigo?”_ Xander’s voice came through.

At once Inigo felt his cheeks heat up again and he smiled, “Xander, hello.”

 _“Are you busy?”_ Xander asked.

Inigo looked around the isle, “Not really.” He shifted the grocery basket on his arm. “Just grocery shopping.”

 _“My apologies for interrupting.”_ Xander’s voice was smooth, _“I just wanted to phone and apologize for rushing off during our trip to the art museum.”_

How sweet of him. Inigo bit his lip and smiled to himself, “It’s not a problem. I had a good time.”

 _“I’m glad to hear that,”_ Xander said.  _“I’m sorry to have interrupted while you’re doing errands.”_

Inigo opened his mouth to tell Xander that once again, it really was fine, but he suddenly stopped as he stared into his basket. A memory of their dinner date and part of their conversation filled his mind and Inigo spoke before he had the chance to think about if it was too forward or too sudden or too something.

“Are you free tonight?” Inigo’s voice felt far away, like he wasn’t the one speaking.

 _“I am?”_ Xander’s voice rose with curiosity.

“Would you… like to come over to my place and have dinner?” Inigo asked, “I mean…” He quickly backtracked, “It won’t be fancy, just pasta and some fish.”

 _“That sounds absolutely wonderful.”_ Xander immediately replied, stopping Inigo from backtracking out awkwardly. _“I’d love to come over. What time do you want me?”_

The word “anytime” immediately sprung on Inigo’s lips, but he painfully held it back. “Six?”

 _“Six is good.”_ Xander confirmed, _“I’ll be over. See you then.”_

“Yeah… see you…” Inigo said before their call cut.

A brief moment of silence filled Inigo’s mind before his brain caught up to what was going to happen. Immediately Inigo felt his body shake and his cheeks burn. He had asked Xander out this time. And Xander said yes. To his place. Not to a fancy restaurant or to an impressive art gallery, but to his place. His small, compact apartment. Inigo felt a wave of glee and giddiness collide into his heart and it beat out the rhythm in an irregular pattern all through Inigo’s body.

He had a date with Xander at his place.

Inigo smiled.

For all of two seconds,  at least, before logic and reality hit him. Xander was coming over to his apartment at six. His apartment wasn’t entirely clean.

Inigo felt ice fill his body before he gasped and immediately checked the time. It was almost three thirty. He didn’t have a lot of time, between cleaning and prepping dinner.

Racing down the isle, Inigo mentally ran through his entire grocery list one last time. As long as he kept his cool, everything would go well.

 

~

 

Somehow, and Inigo wasn’t going to ask how, he managed to clean his apartment to a decent level of clean, wash up, and put dinner on all before six. This time Inigo made sure to head down the stairs and wait for Xander outside. A logical part of him reminded that he had the ability to buzz Xander up, but with the way Xander had gone out of his way to come up and get him for their dinner date, Inigo felt like he should return the gesture.

Xander pulled up at five minutes to six in his fancy car. Inigo stared at it, but his gaze completely broke when Xander got out. His clothes, although casual, were still expensive. In his arms was a bag indicating he had brought something. Inigo’s heart twisted. Xander didn’t have to bring anything except his company…

“Inigo.” Xander’s smile was warm.

Inigo smiled back. “Xander.”

Xander crossed the distance and gently touched Inigo’s shoulder with his free arm, carefully balancing the bag he was holding. “I brought some wine.” Xander told him, “You said fish, so I brought a Chardonnay.”

Inigo blinked. Xander gave a small sheepish smile.

“It’s a white wine. I hope you like it. It was that or something sparkling, and I wasn’t sure how you felt about sparkling wine.”

Inigo had no idea what he liked in wine, except if it was too dry of a wine, but he just nodded so he didn’t say anything too embarrassing. “Thank you for the wine.”

“I also brought some sparkling juice.” Xander told him, “In case you didn’t want to drink tonight and save the wine for another night.”

Another night. As though Inigo had any reason in his regular life to drink wine. Still, the gesture was appreciated and Xander’s thoughtful gesture wasn’t going to waste.

“I’d like to try the wine, with you,” Inigo told him, “But first, let’s finish making dinner.”

He lead them up to his apartment in a comfortable silence. Upon entering, Inigo could smell the fish. It was a simple recipe that his father had picked up when he was travelling for his shows. The fish was a white fish with a bit of pepper, lemon, and rosemary. The pasta was already cooked, but the sauce wasn’t finished, though he had prepped the ingredients.

“Here, let me take the wine,” Inigo offered.

“Thank you.” Xander passed the bag before he took his shoes off. “Your apartment is cozy.”

Cozy from anyone else would be a tactful way of saying cramped and small, but from Xander it sounded honest and genuine. Inigo felt a flush of pride fill him. He tightened his grip on the bottles.

“And it smells wonderful in here.” Xander had put his shoes neatly on the side, “May I?”

Oh, the wine and sparkling juice. Inigo tightened his grip and shook his head, “I got this. Please, relax. You’re my guest.”

Xander’s mouth twitched a little bit, “If you insist.”

Inigo smiled, “Let me show you around. Not that there is a lot to see. I got a living room and the kitchen is here. The bathroom is the first room on the right and then the bedroom at the end of hall.”

Xander looked around, his eyes catching Inigo’s various dancing certificates, awards, and medals. Inigo flushed as Xander walked over, taking everything in but not touching. Beside all of Inigo’s awards were a few pictures in frames. The pictures were old, but his mother clearly stood out in them. One of them was Inigo as a child at his first dancing rehearsal. Normally a photo of him as a child would have sent Inigo flushing, but that picture had been up since he could remember, so all the embarrassment had long since flown out of his system.

“It’s so lovely.” Xander was staring at the picture. “How old were you in this photo?”

“I was six, and it was the first time I was at a studio. I had been taught by my mother up until then. She of course still taught me after, but she wanted me to socialize.” Inigo laughed, “I think I cried. The story changes depending on who’s telling it.”

Xander laughed. “I remember when Elise went to her first birthday party that wasn’t one of ours. She was a bit terrified, clinging to my leg and Camilla’s hand. But in the end she had a good time.”

Inigo smiled at the image and wondered, not for the first time, what Xander’s siblings looked like. He couldn’t imagine anything other than light hair, but then his brain reminded him of Xander saying his mother was the “first wife.” Perhaps his parents divorced or she had passed on. Regardless it wasn’t Inigo’s business.

“I’m glad to hear,” Inigo said instead before changing the topic. “I still have the pasta sauce to make. Want to give me a hand?”

At this Xander nodded thoughtfully. “I asked Elise and Corrin for advice after we got off the phone. I hope I perform well.”

Inigo laughed lightly, “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll do fine.”

The sauce turned out fine, all things considered. Inigo was thankful he had chopped everything up ahead of time as it saved them the energy. Xander turned out to not be too clunky in the kitchen, though he was careful and didn’t do something unless Inigo instructed him. As they cooked, Inigo took a couple photos, this time more than one with Xander in it. Xander hadn’t stopped him and he even asked to see them after. When the sauce and pasta were cooked and the fish out of the oven, Inigo took out the last thing he had made on the fly, a salad, and placed it all on the table. It wasn’t perfect, but Inigo liked to think it was because Xander was there. As they sat down and Xander busied himself with opening the wine, Inigo took one last photo and stared at it for a moment.

Xander looked so normal, so casual and wonderful. A flutter filled his chest and Inigo couldn’t help it. Severa and Owain were his closest friends and now that they knew he was seeing someone, it would be nice to show them evidence. Quickly pulling up their group chat, Inigo sent the photo without a comment and set his phone down.

“This looks wonderful.” Xander complimented, “It smells lovely too. I’ll have to snag the recipe for the fish so Elise and Corrin can try.”

Inigo nodded, “It’s not too complicated. It’s something my father picked up.”

“Oh?” Xander prompted as he stood up to pour the wine.

Inigo was about to answer when his phone went off, signalling a text message. He froze and felt his heart twist. He hadn’t turned the sound off… because apparently embarrassment at a grocery store wasn’t enough. Flushing Inigo grabbed his phone and unlocked it, prepared to only turn the volume down, but he caught Severa’s message.

 _“Ask what he does as a job!”_ \- Severa

 _“He is clearly the anti-hero type.”_ \- Owain

 _“Will you drop that?”_ \- Severa

 _“And ask him!”_ \- Severa

The conversation from their coffee suddenly floated into Inigo’s mind. The mystery of Xander’s job. He frowned and took the time to stall by turning his phone to silent. Severa and Owain were being dramatic. It was par for the course with Owain, but for Severa to join in made Inigo want to sigh. Xander, as he already suspected, likely had a management position somewhere. Wherever this strange fixation on his job had come from, Inigo wasn’t sure. Still… if he got an answer it would shut Owain and Severa up and it would also sate his curiosity. Inigo sighed.

“Something the matter?” Xander asked.

Oh, that was aloud. Inigo set his phone down again and smiled, shaking his head, “Sorry just my friends. I… may have told them about us. They’re just curious.”

“It shows they care about you.” Xander replied.

“That is true.” Inigo muttered, “But they also want to tease me.”

“As all the ones we’re close to,” Xander mused. “I didn’t tell you, but my siblings did tease me a little when I told about our dinner plans.”

It made Inigo feel a little better that Xander was in the same boat. It also gave him confidence to ask, “So, in the spirit of curious and teasing, if you don’t mind, what is your job?”

Xander paused before he smiled, “It’s rather boring, but I manage a family run business. We mainly help other businesses with loans, stocks, and insurance. Sometimes we handle trading negotiations too."

That… sounded complicated, but explained Xander’s lifestyle. Just because Xander wasn’t in the news or head of some massive cooperation didn’t mean he couldn’t be well off. Plus, if it was a family business that implied it was long established.

“My work consists of a lot of paperwork and meetings.” Xander assured, “Certainly not too terribly exciting I’m afraid.”

“I can imagine.” Inigo mused before flushing, but Xander laughed.

“No, no, it’s fine. My job is the best way to kill conversations.”

Inigo took the hint. “Very well. Let’s start eating, shall we?”

The food turned out well, though Inigo attributed the happiness to Xander’s company. He was charming and sweet, just like he was in public, which made Inigo feel better. This was truly Xander’s personality. He hadn’t put on any airs just because they were in public. After finishing the meal and doing dishes (Inigo shamelessly enjoyed Xander rolling up his sleeves to wash them), Inigo didn’t know what else to do. He hadn’t planned that far. Thankfully, Xander didn’t seem eager to leave him immediately and somehow they both ended up on the couch, one of his mother’s old performances playing on the screen.

Somewhere during the watching, Inigo had snuggled up to Xander, who had warmly wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Inigo’s heart fluttered and his cheeks burned as Xander’s warmth and cologne clogged his mind. It took a few small shakes from Xander for Inigo to realize the performance was over and Xander had tried to talk to him.

Inigo turned his head, to look at Xander and properly respond to whatever Xander had just said, but instead their noses brushed as Inigo had leaned in a bit too close. Up this close Inigo could smell Xander more and a bit of the wine on his lips.

He wasn’t sure who started the kiss, but when their lips touched it felt right. Inigo melted against Xander and lightly responded, their kiss merely a touch of lips, nothing deep, nothing too pushy. Warmth burned inside of Inigo and he was sure his brain had short circuited. When Xander pulled away, a light flush was on his cheeks, arched high up his cheekbones.

“My apologies… I was too forward…”

Inigo touched his fingers to his lips and shook his head, “I wanted it."

Xander’s gaze darkened for a moment, his eyes a hazy colour, “Me too.”

A delightful shiver ran down Inigo’s spine. He boldly reached out, touching Xander’s shoulder, pulling himself a touch closer.

“Kiss me again?”

Inigo didn’t need to tell Xander twice.

 

~

 

 _“So he’s not some kind of weirdo with a dark secret,”_ Severa said from the other end of the phone line the next morning as Inigo cracked the last of his eggs into a hot frying pan. _“Just boring.”_

The eggs sizzled in the pan, and it occurred to Inigo that he may have had the heat on too high. He reached out to turn the stove knob to a lower temperature, but he thought it may have been too late.

“Yep!” Inigo chirped, his cell phone caught between his cheek and his shoulder. “Not really that boring. Just normal. And all around amazing, basically.”

He heard Owain snort over the phone. It was a three way call. Owain said, _“He’s boring compared to what could have been.”_

“Not to me,” Inigo said. He adjusted the phone against his ear. “I’m starting to suspect that you guys are just jealous that I have an amazing, wonderful boyfriend who likes me for who I am. A lot.”

 _“Bo-ring,”_ Severa sighed.

 _“She means we’re happy for you,”_ Owain said.

Inigo rolled his eyes good-naturedly and stirred his eggs in the pan. They were almost done. They would be a little crispy from the too-high heat, but oh well. Breakfast was breakfast.

Severa didn’t sound nearly disdainful or disinterested enough to mean she really thought Xander was boring. Owain was probably more truthful. Inigo would have to introduce them to Xander at some point.

They had kissed on the couch for a while, the dull light from the television completely forgotten. Xander’s lips had been warm and soft and sweet against Inigo’s own until Inigo had accidentally curled his fingers into Xander’s sleeve a little too tightly. Xander had made a noise and then Inigo’s shoulders had jumped slightly, broken from the haze that had fallen over his mind as he melted into Xander’s kiss, and then they had stared at each other for a long moment, Xander looking just as caught off guard as Inigo felt.

Then they had laughed.

It had been a good night.

 _“So you guys are official now, right?”_ Severa asked while Inigo searched for a plate. _“This wasn’t a cut and run thing, right?”_

“He didn’t even spend the night!” Inigo reminded her.

It had been a little late and so Inigo had offered, but Xander, who had all but ignored his own wine, insisted on not overstaying his welcome. Inigo had tried to tell him that he wasn’t overstaying anything, but Xander insisted and eventually Inigo let him go. It had probably been for the best anyway.

That wasn’t to say that, caught in the doorway between Inigo’s apartment and the hallway, they hadn’t stolen the chance to kiss some more, of course.

Inigo swore his mouth was still tingling when he woke up that morning.

Suffice to say, Inigo was feeling pretty good about Xander not being the “cut and run” type of guy. And he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be if he asked if they were “official.”

 _“You nearly passed out while holding hands, and he ran away after necking on the couch for like a minute,”_ Severa said. _“It’s like you’re middle schoolers. There’s not even any juicy gossip.”_

Inigo scooped his breakfast out of the hot pan and onto a plate. “Sorry my life isn’t enough like a cheap TV drama for you.”

He could practically hear Severa rolling her eyes over the phone.

 _“Whatever. I’m glad it’s working out.”_ Inigo smiled. There was the softer Severa he knew. _“Owain, don’t you have anything to add?”_

There was some muffled shuffling from the other end of the line. Severa and Inigo waited.

 _“Sorry,”_ Owain said, sounding distracted. _“I’m leaving for class in a minute. I was getting some stuff.”_

Inigo looked at the clock. Trust Owain to choose the earliest classes possible. Inigo didn’t technically have to be up this early, but he hadn’t been able to contain himself for a moment longer. He was pretty sure Severa had been asleep when he’d called.

“I’ll let you get to it then,” he said. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

 _“Later!”_ Owain said.

Severa mumbled something about going back to bed, but all Inigo definitely heard was her final, _“Talk to you later.”_

Inigo burned the tip of his tongue on his eggs, but he was walking too much on air to particularly care.

 

~

 

Two months after Xander had come over for dinner at Inigo’s apartment, Inigo had scored another role in the next short program being held at the Regna Ferox, and he and Xander stole every opportunity they could to see each other.

It wasn’t a leading role, which was a bit of a bummer, but Inigo reminded himself that you couldn’t win everything. His mother had always said the same thing when Inigo had called her, feeling a bit bummed about not landing a particular part or even a place in a performance he’d been excited about. He’d been on a streak with scoring good roles recently, so it had to come to an end at some point. And it wasn’t all bad. The chorus had a pretty prominent role in the upcoming program, even if it wasn’t necessarily the one Inigo had wanted the most. Performing in the chorus had its benefits too.

For instance, Inigo had been busy the two weeks following the dinner at his apartment, immediately swept up in dance practice at all hours of the day in preparation for the next show. Being able to meet as often as they wanted had been hard, especially since it felt like they had _just_ gotten comfortable enough around one another to get to the good stuff. Inigo had subsidized himself on good morning and goodnight texts between himself and Xander on the days neither of them could find a moment to call.

And the few times Inigo _had_ found a free moment, he was uncomfortably reminded that Xander worked a full-time job he couldn’t just leave any time he wanted. There was work to be done. And so Inigo had often gone back to his apartment, knowing it was the smart thing to finish his assignments and get his other work done while he had the spare time, feeling unreasonably loney and wishing Xander were there.

It had been a bit of a rocky two weeks.

Then it had been opening night. And Xander had been there, waiting out in the lobby of the theater after the show with another gorgeous bouquet, practically beaming. Xander’s version of beaming, of course. Inigo had taken the bouquet with a grateful smile and a peck Xander’s cheek.

“You didn’t have to get me another one, you know,” he said, grinning. “You must be tired of picking out flowers by now. I feel like you've spent a fortune with them all.”

“I wanted to,” Xander had said. The lobby was full, but it felt like they had been the only two people in the world in that moment.

Things had died down after that. There had been a bit of a gap between shows, and they had found more time than before to meet for coffee or to call each other on busy days. And now that Inigo had a bit more of a supporting role than a lead in the next show, he likely wouldn’t be quiet as busy as before either.

So even after one of his castmates clapped him on the shoulder and said “Better luck next time,” Inigo didn’t feel nearly as bad as he once would have when he wandered off to call Xander to let him know how the audition had gone.

The phone rang and rang. Xander didn’t pick up.

Inigo frowned. It wasn’t often that Xander didn’t answer the phone when he rang, but—Inigo quickly checked the time—it was still the afternoon. Xander likely was in the middle of a meeting or some other work.

Inigo shrugged to himself and called his parents instead.

 

~

 

Xander didn’t call him back until that night.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Xander said when Inigo answered. _“I’m afraid I’ve been caught up in work all day.”_

“Don’t worry about it,” Inigo said. It happened to the best of them. He told Xander about his next role.

 _“Congratulations,”_ Xander said. He sounded proud. _“That’s wonderful. But are you sure you wouldn’t be happier with more of a leading role?”_

Inigo shrugged, knowing Xander couldn’t see. “Everyone has to sit back at some point or another. That’s just the way of the theater. Plus, I might have a little extra free time to spend outside practice now too.”

He was sure Xander would pick up on what he meant.

 _“Convenient,”_ Xander said, and Inigo thought he sounded pleased.

The semester was coming to a close, and soon Inigo wouldn’t have any school work to worry about until the fall again. The lull between practice and school was often dull, especially when the other people Inigo knew were caught up in their own work, but Inigo was looking forward to it this year.

He fell asleep talking to Xander that night. He woke up with drool on his phone screen and a text message from the night before telling Inigo to “Sleep well.”

Inigo had smiled when he saw it.

 

~

 

The next time Inigo and Xander planned to meet, Inigo had already made it to the park when Xander quickly called to say he couldn’t make it.

That was fine, Inigo assured him. Things came up. Inigo understood. He appreciated the heads-up. Inigo had arrived a bit early anyway. If he had waited, Xander would have caught him sooner.

Inigo had wandered through the trees and park paths for a while before heading home. It wasn’t a bad morning, all things considered.

The next time they met, Xander mentioned business picking up and Inigo had nodded along, understanding.

The time after that, however, Xander had to cancel the night before, citing last minute meetings and quarterly reviews. Which, again, was understandable. Inigo told him so and picked up a few extra shifts at work. It was probably for the best anyway.

Except it happened again.

And again.

And again.

 

~

 

Inigo stared at his phone, his finger hovering over his messaging app. The memory of his performance was fading in his mind, and Inigo had moved on from that. School was done, and with no studying or finals to worry about, he was busy with dancing and rehearsals and shows. In about two weeks they’d have their opening night. Inigo, this time, had landed the supporting role, to which he was grateful for. Not just because of the larger role after a few supporting ones, but because rehearsal and practice left him busy. And busy meant he didn’t have to think. And if he thought then that was when his mind wandered to Xander. Unfortunately for Inigo, it was a Saturday, the theater had to be cleaned, and practice didn’t start up until Monday. That gave him the hours to mull over Xander and his relationship with him.

It had been at least a month since he had properly seen Xander in person. Sure, they had talked, or rather, they texted with the occasional sprinkling of phone calls. The messages were in large part more of Inigo’s effort, giving small updates from everything to his audition to the upcoming date for the next performance. Xander’s answers had been polite and supportive, but that was just it. If Inigo hadn’t known better, he’d think he was one of Xander’s business partners and not his boyfriend.

Inigo’s heart clenched and he set his phone down, his conviction not strong enough. He, of course, understood. Xander was a busy man, with a serious job and professional obligations. To learn he was the head of the family business had only further cemented that Xander would be busy. Inigo wasn’t selfish; he was flexible, he could work around schedules and obligations. Xander wasn’t under any obligation to always come to his opening night performances, but a message would be nice, one confirming or denying. Then again… Xander had been cancelling on him a lot, so perhaps no message was the good news.

Except it hurt. His heart hurt, his mind hurt, and his brain wouldn’t stop swirling in dark circles. What if he had read everything wrong? What if Xander had woken up one day and realized he was just Inigo, plain dancer Inigo? Was this Xander’s way of letting him down? It didn’t feel like that. Inigo knew that Xander preferred discussing at least over the phone, if not in person. Xander wouldn’t passive aggressively ignore him, right?

A few tears clogged Inigo’s eyes. However, if that was true, why did Xander make all those plans just to cancel them immediately? Why wasn’t Inigo given more of an explanation and hurried excuses and rushed apologies? Why was he being tossed aside?

Inigo snorted. He knew the answer. It was because in the end work and family, to Xander, were more important. Perhaps Xander didn’t even know it himself. Perhaps it was just written in Xander’s character. Relationships were a two way street, and maybe Xander had rushed into dating him too fast? Or maybe it was Inigo himself. Maybe he had come off as over eager with all the texting and dates…

Regardless, Inigo was still stuck in the dark. He had no idea what Xander was thinking or what was going wrong with their relationship, but he knew how to take a hint. Xander didn’t have to be passive aggressive with it. He could come out and say it.

A small part of Inigo held onto the hope that this was all a misunderstanding. That Xander would properly meet him somewhere and all would be explained. Then Xander would make it up to him, properly take him out and cuddle and kiss and all of the wonderful things relationships had. This was one of the first relationships in a long time that had been working out for Inigo. Maybe everything would be all right in the end.

Inigo firmly grasped the hope and moved on with his day. He had cleaning and chores to complete. Plus, with the date for their show looming, Inigo had practices. Xander knew of this, as Inigo had texted multiple times and the dates were also in the papers. For sure Xander would make it.

Time passed, and then it was opening night. Inigo threw himself mindlessly into his performance. When he was done, Inigo was tempted to look up to where Xander usually sat, but instead he went to his dressing room to change. As he changed, he waited, perhaps for a worker to knock on his door and inform him a handsome stranger was waiting for him out in the lobby. Or maybe the flowers to be delivered anonymously like when they first met as part of an elaborate surprise.

No knocks, no nothing. Inigo steadied his breath and walked to the lobby. As usual the lobby was full of guests and media. His fellow dancers were also out, mingling. But as Inigo scanned the crowd he didn’t see a tall, handsome blond man.

His heart sank and crushed, crumpling to pieces. Inigo gasped out and felt like a knife was driven into his heart, slowly carving out the pieces into bloody chunks, plopping them sickly to the floor. His mind rotted and dark thoughts swirled and swirled, staining the entirety of his mind until Inigo could not longer think.

He stepped back, carefully into the shadows, hoping no one had spotted him. Then he raced back to his dressing room waiting until he was privately tucked away. A small part of his mind reminded him this was childish, that of course not everyone could make it to his opening night performances. His friends didn’t always and his parents too. But everything with Xander had been piling up and up, and Inigo could no longer take it.

He curled in on himself, not even properly sitting in a chair and for the first time he allowed himself to break, to shatter.

Inigo cried and wept until his throat hurt.

 

~

 

The next morning Inigo woke to his phone going off, buzzing and vibrating loudly against the wooden top to the desk. Groaning, he flopped over, checked the screen, and felt the previous night rush over him. It was Xander. Inigo sat up, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, much less swallow or think. His mind kept swirling around in circles, repeating what had happened.

After Inigo had finished crying, he had forced himself to go out and see the press. He made sure that his face wasn’t blotchy or red, but if it was, everyone else would attribute it to his hard work in the performance rather than sobbing in his dressing room. Inigo then numbly and mindlessly went through the motions of an interview, answering when asked and excusing himself when it was deemed appropriate. He then mingled long enough that people saw him before leaving earlier than anyone else.

When he had returned home Inigo had been torn between texting Xander, phoning him, or continuing to cry. He did neither and instead had a bath and ate something before drifting off into a turmoiled sleep. What to do with Xander and how to approach the situation had been unclear to Inigo, but apparently Xander had made a choice for him by calling him at eight-thirty-three in the morning.

For a moment Inigo was wanted to ignore the call, but he couldn’t. That was too petty. Instead he forced himself to answer it. Wordlessly, he pressed the button and held the phone to his ear, his voice stuck in his throat.

 _“Inigo?”_ Xander’s voice was rushed, a bit breathless, _“My apologies for phoning so early I…”_ Xander’s voice cut off for a second.  _“Are you busy?”_

Inigo looked down at his pajama clad form and almost said yes, but held back his childishness. “I’m not busy.”

 _“Ah good.”_ Xander paused, _“I… I’d like to talk to you.”_

“You are already,” Inigo muttered.

 _“I mean in person.”_ Xander clarified, _“As in I… may have been presumptuous. I’m at the entrance to your apartment.”_

Wait. He was? Inigo gasped out and flew out of bed, eyes wide. “You… are?”

 _“I am,”_ Xander confirmed. _“If… you want to talk to me that is. If not, I’ll leave and not bother you.”_

After all the time away from Xander? Inigo’s heart leapt at the opportunity; despite what had transpired, Inigo would have been foolish to turn Xander away, not when he’d finally get an explanation and an open dialogue with Xander.

“No, no, please… just let me… buzz you up.” Inigo raced out of his room before he paused at the buzzer and intercom located on a panel by the entrance. “I… give me a moment please?” Inigo flushed. “I’m still in my pajamas.”

 _“Please, take your time.”_ Xander politely told him. _“I’ll wait.”_

Inigo didn’t know what to say, so he nodded before remembering Xander couldn’t see him. “Uh. Okay, one second.” He quickly hung up.

Scrambling, Inigo raced back to his room and rummaged around for clothes, something clean and something acceptable, but all Inigo could find was a paint stained pair of sweatpants and a shirt that was clearly too small, as it rode up his stomach every time he moved his arms a bit too high, but Inigo didn’t have the luxury of being picky. He couldn’t keep Xander waiting for too long. A little was fine, or so Inigo’s slightly childish nature told him, but too long and it would be petty. Heading back to his intercom, Inigo pressed the button to talk.

“Xander?” he asked softly.

 _“Inigo?”_ Xander’s voice came through the speaker.

“I’m buzzing you up,” Inigo told him.

Over the intercom Inigo heard the buzzing sound, but he waited a good few seconds to make sure Xander had actually got inside. He then let go and slowly unlocked his door, unsure of where he should be. Inigo ended up standing ramrod straight by the door. He nearly jumped when Xander’s firm knock echoed in the apartment. Inigo suddenly wished he had combed his hair properly and brushed his teeth, but it was too late to worry now. Slowly, Inigo opened the door.

Xander was dressed nicely, but there was something rushed about his appearance. Inigo couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was; perhaps the unbuttoned collar of his shirt or his rumpled hair. Or maybe it was the tired look around his eyes and the flush of his cheeks.

“Inigo.” Xander didn’t step inside. “I came to apologize in person.”

Inigo roughly exhaled and nodded, not trusting himself to speak quite yet. He had to listen to Xander’s explanation before he got too heated. “Please, come inside.”

Xander carefully walked in and took his shoes off. Inigo stepped back, towards his living room and leaned against the back of the couch. Xander didn’t approach him or try to touch him. Inigo was glad. If Xander touched him, he wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. Half of Inigo wanted to forget the past for a while, the missed dates, the lack of conversation, and just jump back to the warm fluttery feelings, but this was something he couldn’t ignore.

“I came to apologize,” Xander once again said. “I’m truly sorry for pushing you aside this past month. I…” Xander’s voice broke off, “I have no excuses. Yes, my family needed me and I was doing my best to assist them, but in return I neglected you and our relationship. You need not forgive me, but I ask that you accept my apology.”

A swell of emotion filled Inigo’s heart, a mix of too many things in a congealed mess. All the sleepless nights wondering if Xander truly wanted to be with him, if their relationship was going down hill, and now, with a few words and the start of a conversation, the knot that Inigo hadn’t realized was in his heart was untangling, and he was left with a pile of frayed emotions, unravelling at the ends.

“I wish to make amends,” Xander kept speaking, “I truly like you Inigo and being with you has made my days brighter. However, if that is not what you wish…”

Inigo couldn’t stay silent any longer. His heart was about to burst and he had to speak. “So that’s it? You’re going to leave it up to me? You want to shove the decision and choice onto me? Whether our relationship works out or not, you want me to decide? What happens when our relationship fails or you decide your work is too important for me? Will you console yourself in the idea that I made the choice to continue our relationship, so there is plausible deniability?”

Inito was ranting now, but Xander hadn’t stopped him. Something warm was running down Inigo’s face and it took him a moment to realize he was crying now. Great, just great. He was supposed to be an adult and holding a serious discussion with his boyfriend about their relationship, but instead he was crying. However, Inigo wasn’t done.

“I  do accept your apology and I do want our relationship,” Inigo honestly spoke, “I want to see you and talk to you and go out on cute dates. I want it all, but what do you want? Xander, do you truly want me? Will our relationship be a team effort?”

Xander immediately answered. For anyone else it would have come off as unthoughtful or impulsive, but not with Xander. Never with Xander. Inigo knew: Xander always spoke and acted with great thought and care. This time it was no different.

“I do want you. I want a relationship with you, Inigo,” Xander softly told him, “and you are absolutely correct. This needs to be a team effort, and the way you’ve been feeling is my fault for not communicating properly with you. I’m sorry Inigo, for hurting you, for causing you to think you’re second in my life.” Xander exhaled slowly. “And I’m sorry for not confirming if I could make it to your opening performance last night. I foolishly thought if I kept it open then I could confirm at the last moment. I now see my wistful nature was half-assed at best.”

Later, Inigo would realize that Xander had minorly swore and that would blow his mind, but for now the only thing he could feel was relief, warm and pulsing. He sobbed some more, letting out the tears he hadn’t know he still had from the night before. Hiding his face, Inigo wished he could stop so Xander didn’t have to see him in such a state.

But Xander merely slowly and hesitantly walked up to him, hand extended, like he was afraid the lack of permission was an issue. Inigo made the choice for Xander. Rushing into his arms, Inigo flung himself into Xander’s chest, breathing in the smell of his cologne. Xander didn’t stumble back at the force. Instead he carefully wrapped his arms around Inigo and stroked his shoulders gently.

“S-Sorry…” Inigo hiccuped, “I do realized your family is important too, I just…”

“You’re just as important.” Xander told him, “But I haven’t been communicating that properly to you. Please allow me to make up for it.”

Inigo nodded and was prepared for a silent embrace as he tried to control his crying, but Xander took him by surprise.

“In fact, I want to take you to meet my family. I would be very honoured if you said yes,” he told Inigo.

Xander’s family. The shock was enough to help Inigo control his crying. The mysterious family that he only had names and stories about. The type of people who were only met if a relationship was stable and serious enough. Inigo felt another flutter, this time resulting in a flush of pleasure and disbelief.

“You… want me to meet your family?” He asked, in case he had misheard.

“Yes, I would. If you’re comfortable enough,” Xander gently told him. “Otherwise we can do whatever else you want. I have no objections. I promise.”

Inigo’s heart tingled and leapt. Despite Xander’s words, he could sense that this offer meant a lot to Xander. His family was very important, and Inigo knew that Xander wouldn’t offer a meeting to just anyone.

“I’d love that,” Inigo replied, before his nerves tried to tell him otherwise. “I’d love to meet your family.”

 

~

 

Inigo was dreading meeting Xander’s family.

 _“I thought this was what you wanted,”_ Owain asked from over the phone, _“considering you really let him have it with that fight.”_

Inigo flushed and checked the clock again. Xander would be arriving any minute.

“It is!” Inigo said. After he and Xander had sorted everything out, he’d been feeling way better about their relationship and their communication skills. Meeting the family was Serious Business, and it made Inigo _feel_ like things were serious. “But what if I don’t make a good impression?”

 _“Who cares about impressive?”_ Owain said. It was likely the first time in his life he had ever uttered those words. _“You make Xander happy, right? So who cares about the rest?”_

“I do! He’s a businessman! They’re all businessmen! They all have steady jobs! And I—I dance.”

_“You do more than dance, man. You paint a story without words.”_

“Thanks,” Inigo said, biting the skin of his thumb. “But that doesn’t help the fact I work part time at a costume shop when I don’t get the audition. I’m not even the lead most of the time.”

 _“You kind of have been lately,”_ Owain pointed out. _“Or did you get so caught up in your big romance that you forgot that part?”_

Inigo hummed despairingly into the phone.

 _“Okay, so you’ve gotten a few supporting parts,”_ Owain said. _“But for the past few months, you’ve also gotten a lot of leads too. You’re not a big name yet, but so what? You’ll get there. Woo Xander’s family with your personal skills. If they love Xander and want him to be happy, they’ll probably like you too.”_

He released a shaky breath. As “out there” as Owain could be sometimes, he was pretty good when Inigo needed a pick-me-up as well.

Inigo’s phone buzzed, and he knew without looking that it was Xander telling him that he had arrived.

“Thanks,” he said to Owain. “I have to go now, but I appreciate the help.”

 _“Be confident!”_ Owain said. _“Let me know how it goes!”_

“I will.”

They hung up. Inigo took a breath to steady himself and then headed downstairs.

 

~

 

“You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” Xander said, despite the fact he was already putting the key in the lock.

Inigo smiled. “Who, me? Uncomfortable? Never.”

Xander paused, his hand on the doorknob. The incredible size of Xander’s immaculate house— _mansion,_  honestly—was not intimidating in the slightest. Nope.

“Inigo,” he began.

Inigo put his hands up, his smile frozen on his face.

“Alright, I’m a little nervous,” he admitted. “But I still want to—”

The doorknob was ripped from Xander’s palm as the door was quickly swung open. A blonde blur shot out through the doorway and latched itself around Xander’s waist.

“Xander!” chirped a young girl. A teenager, Inigo realized, but her round face and short stature had hidden that fact at first. She must have been Elise. “You’re here!”

Just as quickly, she peeled away from Xander’s side and grasped Inigo’s hand. “You must be Inigo! It’s nice to meet you!”

Inigo had to blink a few times before he was able to flash a smile.

“You’re exactly right,” he said, doing his best to appear charming. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Elise.”

Elise dropped his hand, her eyes wide, and for a split moment Inigo was horrified at the thought he’d said the wrong name. But then Elise said “You know me?” and he relaxed, if only marginally.

“Of course,” Inigo said, still smiling. “Xander talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” Elise sounded a little awed. Her eyes were very large.

Inigo was a little taken aback, and he was sure it showed on his face.

“Yes, of course,” he said, shooting Xander a quick look. “He talks about you all dearly.”

Elise’s mouth fell into a small “o,” and Inigo was wondering if he should be doing or saying something more when Elise’s face broke out in a huge smile. It was like the human equivalent of looking directly into the sun.  

Inigo dimly remembered there was something like a fourteen year age gap between Elise and Xander. As kind as Xander could be, his facial expressions were usually more subdued. Inigo couldn’t remember him every looking like _this_. So... expressive. The family resemblance was there, clearly, but Inigo wondered if Xander had ever worn his emotions so obviously as a child.

He didn’t have long to linger on the thought, however, as Xander cleared his throat and Inigo looked up on instinct.

“Yay!” Elise turned around and wrapped herself around the arm of the very tall woman in a stunning black dress who had just appeared in the doorway. “Did you hear that, Camilla? Xander talks about us!”

“So I heard,” Camilla said. Her voice was deep and rich, and something about her chuckle sent chills down Inigo’s spin. She caught Inigo’s gaze and held it the way only a predator could. “Only good things, I hope.”

Inigo stiffened.  “O-Of course! Nothing but!”

She hummed neutrally. Inigo jumped again when he felt something touch his hand, but then he realized it was only Xander reaching out to hold his hand. He tangled their fingers gratefully.

Camilla obviously noticed, but she didn’t say anything. Elise giggled, though Inigo wasn’t exactly sure over what. They stepped aside.

“Well, come in then,” Camilla said. Elise darted off somewhere deeper into the mansion. Camilla’s eyes were sharp. “We’ve all been waiting on you.”

Inigo followed Xander through the doorway. The front hall was just as immaculate as the outside had looked. He looked around for a place to remove his shoes and almost felt bad when he didn’t find any, despite the fact Xander and Camilla were both still wearing theirs.

Xander looked over his shoulder. “We can go to the parlour, since it’s closest to the kitchens.”

“Sure!” Inigo said easily.

The _parlour_. He nearly blanched.

He moved to follow Xander further into the house only for another blur in Inigo’s periphery cause him to turn.

“Xander, do you—” The man holding an electronic tablet looked up, his expression flitting from surprise to a careful neutrality. The tablet screen flickered to black. “Ah. You’ve arrived.”

Male, light hair, clear family resemblance, closer to Inigo’s age than Xander’s. Inigo barely had to think about it.

“Hi,” he said, sticking out his hand. “You must be Leo. I’m Inigo.”

Leo seemed vaguely surprised either at the offer to shake hands or at the fact Inigo knew his name, but he concealed it well and shook Inigo’s hand in return.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Leo said, perfectly polite. “I thought you wouldn’t be arriving for a few more minutes. My apologies. Shall we head to the parlour?”

“An excellent idea,” Xander said.

Inigo smiled at him. “Lead the way!”

 _Okay, tone it back a bit,_ he told himself when Leo responded with merely a nod. If not for how excited Elise had seemed when Inigo had arrived, he would have begun to suspect his presence in Xander’s household wasn’t as wanted as he hoped it would be. Or maybe that was Inigo’s own nerves speaking for him. He certainly wasn’t used to any of his friend’s homes looking so expensive. Even Leo’s well-pressed button up and Elise’s frilly sunday dress looked nicer than Inigo’s clothes, and Inigo thought he had looked pretty nice before arriving.

In any case, if Xander’s family was lukewarm to him now, it was his job to warm up to them first. This was his chance.

“What was it you were going to ask me a moment ago?” Xander asked Leo as they walked down the hallway.

Was it Inigo’s imagination or did Leo glance back in his direction before answering?

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Leo said simply. “We have company.”

Xander nodded.

Camilla and Elise were already in the parlour when Inigo, Xander, and Leo joined them. Inigo thought the “parlour” looked like regular living room with some nicer than normal furniture, but who was he to judge?

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Camilla said when they entered.

Elise flopped into one of the empty seats and bounced a bit when she landed, beaming back at them. Inigo felt at least slightly more at ease with her in the room. Camilla sat close by Elise, and Leo made a beeline for comfortable looking leather recliner in the corner.

“You as well,” Inigo said. He meant to say more, but that was when he noticed the silver haired man wearing a vest straighten up from where he had been bent over one of the side tables. There was a plate of tea sitting on the table. Inigo didn’t remember Xander having any more brothers besides Leo. “Um.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Xander asked, gesturing to one of the empty couch cushions as the silver haired man swiftly moved passed Xander and Inigo and down the hall with barely a nod of acknowledgement.

“Wait,” Inigo said. “Who was that?” He thought back to the vest the man had been wearing. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought… “Is that man your butler?”

“Jakob is Jakob,” Elise said simply, as though that answered anything at all. “He likes Corrin the most.”

Inigo looked helplessly in Xander’s direction. “That…”

Xander said, “Jakob, Felicia, and Flora have lived with us since we were young. They take care of the household while we’re busy doing work.”

Inigo wanted to sneak away, call Owain back, and scream “They have _butlers!_  And _maids_!” into the phone, but that would have been improper, so he didn’t.

But he was sorely tempted.

Inigo took a shaky seat on the loveseat. Xander followed suit.

“So, Inigo,” Camilla said, sounding almost overly sweet. “Xander tells us you’re a dancer.”

Everyone looked interested in what he would say, including Leo, who had until now retained an air of careful distance.

Xander couldn’t help him now. It was Inigo’s turn to sink or swim.

He gulped.

 

~

 

Camilla, Leo, and Elise weren’t so bad once you spent some time with them, Inigo eventually realized.

Elise had never been that bad to begin with, honestly. She was a little more excited than Inigo thought the situation required sometimes, but again, that may have been his own nerves speaking. She certainly made it easy on him to feel good about his answers to Camilla’s interrogation when she ooh’d and ahh’d and perked up at every new tidbit about the theater Inigo let drop.

And it certainly was an interrogation. Camilla never said anything mean, but her questions were pointed at times, clearly digging for more. Inigo wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for, but he talked about his parents, his dancing, his on-and-off time at the theater growing up. Xander chimed in every now and again with his own commentary.

Camilla seemed satisfied well enough by the end. Or so Inigo thought.

Leo was harder to read. He didn’t say much, merely offered a seemingly neutral comment every now and then to something somebody said, but Inigo got the feeling he was being observed very carefully by that one. He hoped he passed whatever test the siblings were clearly holding.

Inigo thought he had, up until he’d offered to go to the kitchen to fetch the cookies Elise mentioned must have been ready by now.

Elise looked pleased by the prospect, but Xander said, “It’s kind of you to offer, but Jakob or Flora will bring them out when they’re finished.”

Inigo nodded and intended to say okay, but Camilla beat him to it.

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea,” she said, surprising Inigo. “If Inigo will be coming over more often, there’s no reason he shouldn’t acquaint himself with the house now. Elise, why don’t you show him to the kitchens?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Leo said.

Inigo wanted to remind them that he was right there, yes, hello. He was absolved of that issue when Elise hopped up from her seat and tugged on his hand to follow her.

“It’s this way!” Elise said.

Inigo didn’t quite stumble from his seat, but it was a close call. He looked back as Elise pulled him down the hallway. Xander sent him a reassuring smile. Inigo followed Elise a bit more confidently.

The kitchens were actually located down a short hallway that split off from the main hall Inigo had walked down to reach the parlour. No doubt Inigo could have made his way there himself, but he suspected Camilla, Leo, and Xander were taking the moment without him to discuss the conversation so far. At least, that was clearly Camilla and Leo’s intentions. Inigo wasn’t sure if he should have felt nervous or not.

“I think I can smell them!”

Elise’s excitement was easily infectious. She had dropped Inigo’s hand, and Inigo found himself rushing to keep up.

“I think I can too,” he said. Elise practically skipped through the kitchen doorway.

The kitchen counters appeared to be granite and there was a small island in the middle of the room. Jakob and another woman with pink hair were shuffling near the sink and oven, but it was the other person standing in the kitchen who drew Inigo’s attention the most.

“Oh!” The person said when they spotted Inigo. “Hello there! I’m Corrin. And you are?”

“That’s Inigo!” Elise said for him.

Inigo waved sheepishly. “That’s right.”

“Oh, of course,” Corrin said, stepping forward to shake Inigo’s hand. “I’m Corrin, Xander’s sibling. I’m so sorry I was running late today. I completely forgot you were coming over.”

“It’s no problem,” Inigo said sincerely, shaking their hand.

Truth be told, he’d forgotten about Corrin until this very moment. Corrin had an air about them that set Inigo at ease, however, and he was suddenly grateful for their presence. So far Corrin was the least instantly intimidating person of Xander’s household, excluding Elise.

“What have you thought of the visit so far?” Corrin asked, sounding curious. “I know Camilla and Leo can be a little… _much_ sometimes, but they mean well.”

“Hey!” Elise said. She was peering through the oven door. “I think the cookies are almost done!”

Jakob stood close to her, oven mitts in hand, looking unimpressed. “Please step aside.”

Elise reluctantly did. Inigo felt himself relaxing more and more by the minute.

“They’ve been wonderful,” Inigo said, which was, strictly speaking, true. Inigo hadn’t humiliated himself yet, so he was counting this visit was a win so far. “It’s been really nice meeting everyone so far.” Then, because he was searching for something more to say as he heard the oven door pop open, he added, “You have a very lovely home.”

That was no doubt true, and it reminded Inigo that he’d been more caught up in the people than the kitchen itself so far.

He turned his head to give the kitchen a closer look just as he heard Corrin gasp. He felt their hand close over his wrist like a vice grip. Inigo’s head snapped back to stare at them. Corrin dropped his wrist immediately, looking startled and embarrassed. Somewhere behind Inigo, he heard shuffling.

“Sorry!” Corrin said hastily. “It’s just—ah.”

Their eyes flickered over Inigo’s shoulder. Inigo turned to look again, but Corrin grasping his hands—less roughly this time—drew his attention back to them.

“I’m just _really_ happy you’re dating Xander,” Corrin said, sounding scattered but—or so Inigo wanted to think—sincere. “Really. He’s been so much happier with you around the past few months.”

Inigo’s mouth had gone dry. Suddenly his full attention was on Corrin. “Oh, I’m flattered that you would say so.”

“Honestly,” Corrin insisted, their fingers squeezing Inigo’s own. They looked Inigo in the eye. “You know how stoney and sullen he can be sometimes. I think spending time with you has really allowed Xander to be more open with his feelings.”

Inigo frowned, brows furrowed.

“Stoney?” he echoed. Xander had never been the most expressive, yes, but “sullen” and “stoney” were not the first words that popped into Inigo’s mind to describe him.

Corrin paused, clearly thinking. Their eyes flickered over Inigo’s shoulder again, rapidly, something impossible to gauge passing over their face.Somewhere behind Inigo, the oven door closed again.

“Well, no,” Corrin said after a moment, drawing their gaze back to Inigo. “I guess he must not be with you. And he isn’t like that all the time here either. It’s just been.” They thought about it. “Better, since he met you.”

“Oh.” Inigo felt at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to do with this information. He wasn’t sure he had done much at all. “Well. Thank you? I’m glad.”

Corrin nodded, seemingly satisfied. They dropped Inigo’s hands, and Inigo, remembering that this was likely a distraction, finally turned around, scanning the kitchen.

Had something changed? He hadn’t been paying particular attention to the counter before, but after Corrin had been insistent on keeping Inigo’s eyes on them, he felt nearly certain something about the kitchen’s layout had shifted. Something was missing from the counter. He just couldn’t place what.

He caught the tail end of someone—Felicia? Flora?—ducking out of the other entrance. Inigo thought they had been holding something, something dark, but they had gone by much too fast to tell. He found himself catching Jakob’s eye on accident.

Jakob held up a tray of cookies that had somehow been assembled without Inigo’s noticing. “Shall we present these to the others?”

“Great idea,” Corrin said, sounding relieved. “Thanks so much for baking those!”

Jakob looked pleased. There had been something tense around his eyes, Inigo thought, but whatever it had been, it was gone now.

“You may have the first one if you wish,” Jakob offered Corrin. “But please be careful. They are quite hot.”

Inigo, sure he had missed something, quietly followed them back to the parlour, trailing behind Elise.

“Cookies!” Elise announced as they entered the parlour once more.

Jakob moved to offer the cookies to the others, but Inigo caught Xander before he could stand.

“I think something strange happened just now,” Inigo said quietly to Xander as Elise cheerfully thanked Jakob for the cookies and reached for the gooiest treat. Camilla and Leo stood up to  follow suit with less exuberant enthusiasm.

Xander raised an eyebrow. “Strange?”

Inigo opened his mouth to reply just as Jakob offered him the tray. “Would you like one?”

“They’re quite good,” Corrin added, a cookie already in hand.

“Ah,” Inigo paused. He looked to Xander. There was nothing to do about it now. “Yes, thank you.”

Inigo took one of the cookies. He could feel Xander’s eyes on him, but the moment to whisper about the strangeness in the kitchen had passed now that everyone’s eyes were on him. He filed it away as something to bring up later.

“So you finally made it home,” Leo said to Corrin as they all settled back down.

Corrin looked abashed. “I was running errands and forgot the time, sorry.” They peered closer at Leo, looking curious. Inigo swore a ghost of a smile came over their features right before Corrin said, “Say, Leo, isn’t your collar inside out?”

For the first time that afternoon, Leo looked nervous.

“My collar?” He felt around his neck. “No, that’s impossible, my whole shirt would have to be—”

Leo froze. Inigo watched, amazed, as Leo’s face turned into a tomato in real time. He couldn’t help but laugh along with the others as Leo quickly excused himself.

“Inside out the whole time?” Elise said, awed. “I didn’t even notice!”

“Neither did Leo, dear,” Camilla said, smirking.

As they laughed, Corrin caught Inigo’s eye from across the room and winked. He felt Xander’s shake with a subtle laughter as well, and he remembered Corrin’s words from before. How Xander seemed lighter with Inigo around.

The rest of the afternoon passed smoothly, he thought. Leo became much more human after he returned with his shirt the right way around. Corrin and Elise remained by far the most comforting of the group, but with Xander by his side, Inigo slowly found himself to be much less tense than the had been at the start of their meeting.

It went so well, in fact, that by the time Inigo slid into Xander’s car to leave, it was more Corrin’s words than their out of place actions that rattled around in his mind on the drive home.

Xander reached across the divider to hold Inigo’s hand, keeping his eyes on the road at all times.

Inigo smiled, at ease.

 

~

 

It felt only right a week later to ask Xander if he’d like to meet his parents. Inigo’s heart was pounding rapidly in his chest as he asked. Under normal circumstances, Inigo wouldn’t have ever imagined bringing a person home. Doing so felt like a final step, a loud sign that his relationship was Serious. But in a way, depriving Xander of the opportunity felt like a passive slap to the face. After Xander had gone out of his way to not only apologize, make up to him, but also bring him into his life further by introducing him to his family, it felt only fair to extend the same offer to Xander. It made Inigo feel like he was letting Xander know that he too felt their relationship was serious and special enough.

“Of course I would.” Xander immediately said after Inigo pitched the idea with pink cheeks. “I’d love to meet your parents.”

The confidence in Xander’s tone helped Inigo make the call later that night, but just barely. Inigo could barely concentrate on his words as he spoke. The space around his ears felt distorted and his voice ringing in a tin-like quality. The rush of excitement and fear that surged through him after his parents said yes was almost too much for Inigo. He barely was capable of thanking them before he hung up. It took Inigo a solid two minutes before he gathered the strength to tell Xander of the plans. Everything was made even more fluttery when Xander immediately offered to pick him up and drive them both to his parent’s house.

“So I won’t get lost.” Xander said, but Inigo firmly doubted Xander could ever get lost.

Still he agreed because nothing would be more mortifying than sitting alone with his parents waiting for his date. It would feel like a teenager all over again and Inigo firmly wanted to never experience waiting for a date in those circumstances ever again.

Inigo was still jittery though, when the day arrived. Xander on the other hand appeared as cool and collected as he did when Inigo went to visit his family. It was both reassuring and unfair. Inigo wanted to pout about it, but Xander once again held his hand as he drove smoothly through the city, only occasionally letting go to turn corners.

The house his parents lived in was in a modest neighbourhood with plenty of couples and families. Inigo’s parents had never moved out of his childhood home, and Inigo prayed that nothing too embarrassing was pulled out from storage. Smoothly Xander parked on the street in a perfect parallel park that left Inigo in awe.

“It’s a very nice house.” Xander said, tone genuine.

Inigo gave a smile, “I grew up in this neighbourhood and in this house. It is very nice.” He sucked in a deep breath, “Let’s go.”

“Ah wait, one moment.” Xander smoothly interjected, “I have something in the back.”

He did? Inigo’s cheeks flushed. He had been so overwhelmed with Xander picking him up and Xander meeting his parents that he hadn’t even looked at the back of the car. “You do?”

The thing turned out to be a bouquet, this one a colourful array of many different kinds of flowers. Inigo felt a smile twitch on his face. “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Xander then reached out and took Inigo’s hand, lacing their finger together.

Inigo’s lips twitched into a smile and he walked with Xander to the front. Even though he still had the keys to the place (in case of emergency) Inigo didn’t want to barge in, so he rang the bell. At once his mother answered, a flurry of pink hair and soft smells. Inigo smiled and immediately broke his grip with Xander so he could hug his mother.

“Inigo, welcome home!” She gave a light squeeze before she parted and looked at Xander. “You must be Xander. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Xander smoothly said, gently taking Olivia’s hand and kissing it, just like he did to Inigo all those months ago, “Inigo has told me many wonderful stories about you.”

Olivia gave a bright smile, “I’ve heard some things about you too Xander, but please, don’t stand outside, come in.”

They stepped inside and Xander immediately handed Olivia the bouquet, “These are for you and your husband.”

Olivia took the flowers and smiled brightly, a bit of pink on her cheeks, “Thank you Xander. Please take your shoes off and come to the kitchen. Henry is cooking right now. I’m going to get a vase for these lovely flowers. Thank you again.”

As Xander looked away to take his shoes off, Inigo saw his mother lightly fan her face, her cheeks a brilliant red. Inigo in turn felt his face burn at his mother’s actions, but thankfully Xander hadn’t noticed.

They went into the kitchen and just as they rounded the corner his father looked up from cutting some vegetables, a large knife in hand. He waved, still holding the knife, “Hello, Inigo! And you must be Xander, yes? Welcome to our home.”

Inigo froze and felt a light wave of panic fill him. This wasn’t the way he wanted Xander to meet his father. But Xander didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Hello, it’s wonderful to meet you, Henry.”

Henry gave a laugh that always sounded more like a cackle. Inigo wanted to rush to his father and beg to not attempt to scare his date away. (Even though he knew his parents would never purposefully sabotage his love life.)

“Olivia told me you bought us flowers.” Henry continued, “They’re lovely. I’ve recently bought a book on pressing and drying flowers. Sometimes the best things in life are preserved in death.” He gave a laugh, “I’m just kidding, though dried flowers are always lovely.”

Inigo sent a prayer out for his blood pressure and tried to gage Xander’s expression. It was neutral and somehow that was worse than showing what he was feeling. Inigo prayed it wasn’t disturbed. He also prayed dinner went without a hitch.

To his utter relief dinner was mainly smooth, though occasionally his father would say something or his mother would furiously hide her blush at Xander. In the end, after they left, Inigo felt a million times better. Dinner went well and his parents loved Xander. Their drive back to Inigo’s place was quiet, but peaceful. When they pulled up to Inigo’s apartment, Xander gently leaned in and kissed Inigo, softly, tenderly. Inigo pulled closer and their kiss turned into something a bit heavier, a bit smoother and slicker. As they parted, Inigo’s heart was pounding and Xander had a bit of a flush on his cheeks. At once Inigo felt ridiculous. Making out in a car was the cliche thing teenagers did, not adults.

“Your parents are lovely.” Xander breathed out softly, “I’m thankful you took me to meet them.”

“Even my father’s puns?” Inigo pressed.

Xander laughed lightly, “It takes more than puns to defeat me.”

Inigo’s mouth twitched and he knew he should go, let Xander drive home for the evening, but he didn't want to go. Inigo didn’t want Xander to go. His heart was pounding and his mind racing all over the place. It felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to either jump or step away. A million thoughts swarmed him until Inigo gave up trying to think properly. He pressed a bit closer to Xander, hiding his face in Xander’s chest so if this went south he wouldn’t see Xander’s expression.

“Come up with me?” Inigo hesitantly asked, as though he could hide his intentions by wording it vaguely.

There was a pause and Inigo felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Of course, this was too soon. They had taken their relationship so slowly, and Inigo was too greedy. He pulled away, about to retract his statement when he saw Xander’s expression.

It left him breathless.

“I’d like that.” Xander told him, his voice low, “I… don’t have any important meetings tomorrow.”

That was all Xander had to say. With a sudden rush of energy, they got out of the car. It was the slowest and most painfullest ride up to his floor and opening his door took a great effort, but as soon as they were inside, Inigo couldn’t help himself. He pressed into Xander, hoping he didn’t seem too eager. Xander immediately grabbed Inigo by the hips and pressed. Stars danced behind Inigo’s eyes and he boldly looked up at Xander.

“Bedroom?”

“Of course.” Xander whispered.

Everything else was a blur of touches and heat and moans and slickness. Inigo could barely think as everything, all the emotions and tension they had built up over the months collapsed into a sweaty pile of warmth and tenderness. His apartment wasn’t the most romantic place, but yet with Xander, Inigo felt that anywhere would be romantic and perfect.

And maybe that was it. Location and mood didn’t matter, not when their emotions and feelings for each other were the same. When they were sated and Inigo felt complete, only then did he curl fully into Xander and close his eyes.

He fell asleep immediately.

 

~

 

The next week Inigo was on cloud nine, practically bouncing everywhere. Everyone noticed, especially Severa and Owain, much to his embarrassment. Their knowing tones and the looks Inigo knew he was getting even when on the phone with them caused him to stammer and blush. Still, they were supportive and Inigo couldn’t ask for better friends, even if said friends came with the package deal of “teasing and roasting.”

Work and performances soon took Inigo’s days, and he left practices and shifts exhausted. Xander was also busy, but this time they were properly communicating with each other, having lengthy phone calls at their convenience and quick texts when they were too busy to phone.

His father’s words echoed in Inigo’s mind and so after one rehearsal Inigo went to a local bookstore and bought a book about drying and pressing flowers. It was a heavy book, and Inigo looked forward to reading it and trying the techniques himself. Everything felt like it was going right and on track. His parents liked Xander, he had met Xander’s family, they were properly communicating, and his relationship with Xander was stronger than ever.

It was probably because of this high that Inigo didn’t feel uneasy until a week later. At first it was just a brushing across his neck, like in spring or fall when he forgot a scarf. Inigo thought nothing of it and continued on his daily routines. Then, after one particularly long evening rehearsal, he spotted a car that lingered a bit too long at the corner before turning. Inigo shrugged and chalked it up to someone unfamiliar with the area.

The next morning as he went to his shift at the costume store, Inigo stopped for coffee and couldn’t help but feel someone sitting in the cafe part was staring at him. He wasn’t able to pinpoint where the stare came from and Inigo let it slide. It was rare, but with flyers once again up for a performance it could easily be someone who thought they saw him at the theater.

He never thought to bring it up to Owain or Severa and especially not Xander. Inigo may have been the paranoid type, but that was just it. It was paranoia, and Inigo wasn’t going to let that take hold of him. Instead he focused on getting to his shifts and practicing for their upcoming performance. He also had to consider classes and registering as the school year was ever encroaching on him. To his utter surprise, Xander was familiar with how the courses ran on campus and offered advice to him.

 _“I sometimes help Leo with his classes,"_ Xander explained over the phone. _“It’s not a problem.”_

“You’re the best.” Inigo had proclaimed, “Without your advice I’d still be floundering on my choices. But, anyways, our performance is in four days.”

 _“I’ve marked it on my calendar,”_ Xander warmly said.  _“I’m excited, considering you haven’t told me what part you’ve landed.”_

“It’s a surprise,” Inigo stated with a grin.

 _“How many more rehearsals do you have?”_ Xander asked.

Inigo checked his calendar, “I have four more. A couple are late night ones, but that’s the price you pay sometimes.”

 _“Don’t overwork yourself.”_ Xander said before he paused, _“At least, that’s what my siblings say to me.”_

Inigo laughed, “I’ll heed your advice. Anyways, it’s late. I best be off to bed. Good night.”

_“Good night, Inigo. Sleep well.”_

Their call ended and Inigo smiled to himself before getting ready to sleep. He had a lot of work at their next few practices and he needed the rest. The next day flew by and soon Inigo found himself at practice, working hard. The final stretch was always the worse, but then opening night. Inigo smiled and tried to think of they type of flowers Xander would give him. Some would call it expecting, but Inigo knew that Xander enjoyed gifting him flowers.

Practice ended and Inigo felt like an over cooked noodle. After debriefing from their stage manager and director, they all began to clean up. Inigo dawdled and by the time most were done, he was still in charge of putting some of the backdrops away as well as a few other props. Gearing himself up, Inigo forced his tired body to move, to roll the backdrops in their proper place. Since he was the last, he’d also have to turn the lights off. The manager had the keys and would do the rest. Inigo held onto that and pushed the last backdrop to the back of the stage when he heard a small rustling in the back. Inigo’s skin prickled and his over tired mind suddenly jolted to all sorts of things. He turned around and saw nothing. Inigo relaxed.

For all of two seconds.

Then suddenly someone was running towards him. They were covered in dark clothes and their face and hair were obscured. Inigo’s heart dropped to his stomach and he let out a cry, closer to a shriek than a yell. He didn’t have time to feel embarrassed as the person drew something that gleamed in the dim lighting of the back. Inigo scrambled, desperate to get out. He knew this theater like the back of his hand, but fear and panic were clouding his mind. Grabbing the first thing his hands could touch, a life sized flamingo prop, Inigo threw it at his attacker, praying it would be enough.

He then tried to run to the exit, located on the other end, but something was thrown at him and while it thankfully wasn’t sharp, it was blunt. Inigo gasped out as it smacked him on the head. He collapsed to the ground, his mind spinning and his vision blurred. He had to get out. There was no time to try and phone emergency. He could barely scream. With a lurch and wobbly arms, Inigo tried to get up, but was pinned to the floor by his attacker. The sharp object was pressed under his throat. Inigo felt tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t have the strength to yell or the strength to fight back. This was it. His heart broke as he thought about the after, how he never got to say the things to his friends, to his parents, to Xander. Closing his eyes, Inigo waited for the pain, but instead of feeling he heard.

Gunshots.

His body flinched, tensing up, anticipating pain, before he realized nothing was hurting him. But something warm was dripping down his back. It smelled of iron and copper. Blood. Inigo felt fear paralyze him, but his attacker was still alive, but this time moving off him, the one trying to run away this time.

A click echoed in the space and Inigo realized whoever had the gun was pointing it at his attacker, closer now. Inigo waited, a moment of perfect silence, before a rush of words in a foreign language hit his ears before another gunshot echoed in the space. Inigo flinched again, but no pain, just the sound of a body smacking wetly to the floor. Inigo shut his eyes and tried to not move, even though it was futile. He was saved, at least from a slit throat, but not a bullet to the head. How tragic.

“I won’t hurt you.” The voice said, familiar, but somehow not. “Go, get out of here.”

Inigo opened his eyes and stared back into the dim light, to where his apparent saver was. He blinked once and then twice before his voice caught in his throat.

There, standing in a pristine suit and polished shoes, holding an elegant pistol, was Xander.

 

~

 

It was easy to put two and two together, and yet Inigo’s brain wanted to reject what his mind was telling him.

Shaking, he pushed himself to his knees.

“Y—” The words caught in his throat. Inigo rasped, “You shot him.”

Everything felt distant. Inigo knew he was sitting on the dusty wooden floor backstage, but his mind felt like it was somewhere else.

His eyes drifted over to the body on the floor. The dead body. The living person Xander had just killed.

A pool of hot blood was slowly spreading across the floor, threatening to drown Inigo within it, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Xander had just killed a man.

A man who had been about to kill Inigo for some reason.

Inigo swallowed. His body trembled in an endless shudder.

There was a flicker of movement from the corner of his vision, and Inigo turned to see Xander lowering the gun, something strange overshadowing his face. For a moment, Inigo nearly didn’t recognize him. Everything felt strange and different in this darkened corner of the theater.

Then Xander blinked, and it was like he was his normal self again. A stricken look overcame his features. He rushed to Inigo’s side, placing the gun on the floor and gripping Inigo’s arms almost painfully in his haste to hold him.

“Are you alright?” Xander asked.

 _Demanded_ , Inigo’s mind belatedly corrected. Xander was on his knees in front of him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the gun and its dark shadow on the floor.

Xander shook him slightly, jolting Inigo back to reality. Inigo’s head snapped up. Xander’s eyes were wild.

 _"Inigo._  Did he hurt you?”

There was a tiny cut under Inigo’s chin that burned a bit every time he moved his head, but that seemed so small in comparison to the big picture now. In the big picture where Inigo had just been attacked and Xander had shot a man to death. It was still difficult to wrap his mind around.

Inigo had undoubtedly seen the attacker’s face by now, especially since he was lying dead on the floor, but when Inigo thought about it, he could only picture a blur where the face should have been and the ever growing pool of blood growing around his head.

Speaking of which, something warm and wet had begun to soak itself in the cuff of Inigo’s pants. He didn’t look.

Xander tilted his chin up and looked at the tiny cut there. His eyes scanned Inigo’s body, looking for injuries. His hands suddenly felt dangerous on Inigo’s skin.

Inigo forced himself to breathe. It felt like hadn’t moved in a million years.

“We.” His voice threatened to shake. “We should call the police.”

“What? No.” Xander said the words like they were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve already messaged Peri and Flora. They’ll be here momentarily.”

Inigo stared.

Flora? That name sounded familiar. He vaguely remembered it being the name of one of Xander’s maids. Peri didn’t sound familiar at all.

“Who?” Inigo asked, his voice growing in strength.

There was a dead body behind him. He look at the floor. At the gun.

“Xander,” he said, sounding calm despite the rapid pounding of his heart. “How did you know that man would be here?”

Xander paused. He finally stopped looking Inigo over for injuries and started looking at Inigo carefully for another reason instead. Inigo wasn’t sure he recognized that look. Or Xander at all.

“I was waiting outside for you,” Xander said slowly. Carefully. “Since you said you’d be running late and I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“We’re a small theater,” Inigo defended. “We don’t always have a regular tech crew.” Something akin to hysteria bubbled up in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was talking about the props with a _dead body right there_. “ _Why_ did you come in?”

Xander breathed in through his nose, his lips pressed in a thin line. He looked contemplative.

“Nobody else is here, right?” Xander asked instead of answering his question. He glanced down at the gun, and for a moment Inigo was overcome with a fresh wave of fear until Xander continued with “Considering nobody else has come running yet, I would suspect so.”

Oh, right. The gunshots. Inigo vaguely remembered the stage manager saying he’d be back to lock up later.

Which wouldn’t have been an issue if Xander would just let him call the _police_ like a reasonable person.

The man had attacked Inigo. Xander had defended him. Everything else was jumbled, but those two facts stood out boldly in Inigo’s mind. They were in the right, legally. Probably.

Unless…

“How did you know to follow me in here?” Inigo asked again. He didn’t know what shock felt like, but he suspected he was feeling something close to it.

Xander was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed, looking almost defeated.

“I saw a suspicious character enter through the alley,” he said. “I was worried for your safety, so I followed.”

“But you—”

“I will explain everything momentarily,” Xander cut him off. “But we need to move first, alright? Can you stand?”

Inigo thought about it. Thought about demanding more. The blood on his pants cuff was beginning to cool, he realized. So he nodded.

It turned out that he could stand, if only with Xander’s help. His legs felt weak and jittery, as did the rest of him, but Xander’s arm was steady around his shoulders and Inigo leaned heavily into his side. They wobbled towards the dressing rooms.

There were public dressing rooms and smaller private rooms that Inigo sometimes used when he was cast as a lead. He stumbled into one of the private rooms with Xander’s help.

Just yesterday Inigo would have loved to snuggle this close to Xander on a nice evening in. Now he wasn’t sure how to reconcile that Xander of the past with the one standing before him in this moment. The one who had just killed a man to save Inigo’s life.

“Your pants are bloody,” Xander noted as the door closed. “Peri and Flora will be here soon to take care of the rest.”

“The rest” like the body? The blood? Inigo didn’t know. He was afraid to ask.

There were extra pairs of tights and other random clothes from past shows laying around the room. So Inigo slowly unbuttoned his jeans and grabbed a random pair of shorts to put on, tossing the bloody clothes aside. His head felt stuffed with cotton all the while.

Xander watched, but Inigo got the feeling he wasn’t really seeing Inigo. That he was thinking of something else.

Inigo finished dressing in silence. He and Xander looked at each other from across the small dressing room, wordless. Inigo kept feeling the ghost of a knife pressed under his neck, the phantom weight of an would-be murderer on his back. He felt tears build up in his eyes, and he forcefully blinked them away.

Finally, Inigo said, “What was all that?”

His voice cracked in the middle. Xander’s face was impossible to read.

The only sound in the room was that of Inigo’s heavy breathing. He waited. He could do nothing but wait. His throat itched with the urge to scream.

“There are things,” Xander eventually said, “that I have been trying to shield you from. About myself.”

He paused. For a second Inigo hysterically thought Xander was going to force Inigo to open his mouth and ask him to continue—something Inigo wasn’t sure he could do again—but thankfully Xander did that on his own.

“There are... unsavory things my family and I do for the good of this city,” he said. Inigo didn’t know what “unsavory” meant. He thought of the gun that now sat on the dresser between them. “I’m afraid that by virtue of being associated with me, some other unsavory characters may have taken a notice of you.”

He looked regretful. “I am so sorry, Inigo. I thought you were protected. I was foolish. I just couldn’t bare not to see you anymore. I should have known better.”

Inigo flexed his fingers. He blinked rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes. Whatever shakes had begun to subside on the walk to the dressing room, they were returning now with full force.

“I still don’t understand,” he said, his voice just as unsteady as he felt. “What do you _do_ ? Why do you carry around a gun? What—” A memory suddenly resurfaced like the bobbing of a sunken ship on the cold ocean waves. “That day I met your family, was Corrin hiding a _gun_?”

Xander grimaced.

“It had been left out accidentally,” he said, which was all Inigo needed to hear.

His legs gave out from under him, and Inigo collapsed to the floor. Xander made a startled sound, but Inigo simply curled up on himself, burying his face in his knees, the chill of the floor immediately numbing his butt. Though the numbness could have that of Inigo’s own mind. Everything was too much.

He heard Xander’s quick steps and felt him kneel down next to him, but  before Xander could touch him, Inigo, face still in his knees, said, “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

There was an audible silence.

“Are you sure?” Xander asked.

Inigo looked up, his arms still locked around his legs. It kept him from shaking too badly, at the very least. He felt stupid and exposed.

“Yes,” Inigo said.

So Xander told him. And Inigo listened.

There were surely details Xander was leaving out, surely parts he was condensing for Inigo’s benefit, but the gist of it was Xander did a lot of illegal work to do a lot of other illegal things, and sometimes that involved covering up nights like this one. Sometimes that involved other things, Xander told him.

“We’re trying to do what’s best for the good of the city, truly,” Xander said softly. He kept his hands to himself, though he looked like he very badly wanted to touch Inigo. “We haven't always, especially not when my father—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “I promise, we are doing more good than harm. I would never purposely put you in harms way. If I had known you were ever in any danger, I would have made you aware somehow and insisted on more protection.”

“Your family business,” Inigo echoed. “Your _Family_ business.”

His fucking boyfriend was in the mafia. Or as good as, at least.

God, if only Owain knew he’d been basically right all along.

Inigo froze at the thought. A man had attacked him tonight because Xander was in the mafia. Inigo was in danger because of his proxy to Xander. He could put other people in danger by their proxy to him as well.

He thought of his mother, his father, Owain, Severa, everybody he’d ever known being forced to the floor with a knife at their throats simply because they knew him.

No. Nobody could ever know.

 _“If I had known,”_ Xander had said. Inigo suddenly remembered all the weird feelings he’d been having for the past week. The feeling that somebody was watching him.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Was that man _following_ me?”

For the first time this evening, Xander looked startled.

“Have you felt like you were being followed?”

Inigo swore quietly, squeezing his eyes shut again, his arms locked around his legs so tightly that he felt his fingernails digging into his own skin. He felt dizzy.

There was a long pause before he felt a shuffle of movement and Xander’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. Inigo swallowed. Xander’s large hand covered one of Inigo’s own and he stroked calm circles into the back of Inigo’s hand with his thumb.

Xander felt warm and safe, a protective barrier against the world.

He was also the man who had killed for Inigo tonight. Who had apparently killed before for other reasons. Whose whole family—from sweet Elise to knowing Camilla to even the house staff—was in on it.

Inigo shook and shook.

He wanted to say _Do I even know you, really,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He wanted Xander to keep holding him. He wanted to be alone.

Xander kept talking.

“I understand if you need time to think,” he said quietly as Inigo tried and failed to pull himself together. “If you need time away from us. It’s understandable if this is something you need time to process, or…” Xander sounded sad. “If this is something you could never accept.”

Inigo’s throat felt too thick to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would say.

Slowly, carefully, Xander pressed his warm lips to Inigo’s forehead, right on Inigo’s hairline.

There was a body being disposed of backstage, and Inigo trembled. His eyes were still closed.

Xander must have been encouraged when Inigo didn’t immediately swat him away, because as he pulled back, he softly admitted, “If I had known you were in danger sooner, I had planned to say goodbye with sweet peas.”

Sweet peas. There was probably some symbolism there. Xander truly loved his flowers.

Inigo didn’t want to say goodbye to Xander. He wished he had never met the man. He wished Xander had told him sooner. He wished he had never known.

He wished.

Xander held him close. Inigo held himself.

Severa had once accused him of being a bit of a crybaby, but this time Inigo’s tears felt justified.

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER TAGS: This fic is overall pretty tame, but it is a Mafia AU! An unnamed character attacks another character and is shot. That unnamed character dies due to a gun. The named character is pretty bothered by it and reacts accordingly. None of this happens until late in the fic, but consider not reading that far if this is something that is going to adversely affect you. Take care of yourself first!
> 
> Roses and Lilies: Roses for the obvious reasons but lilies because they look nice.
> 
> Heather and Red Carnations: Heather or Lavender can mean admiration and solitude. Red carnations can mean admiration, my heart aches for you, my heart breaks.
> 
> Purple Orchids and White Gardenia: Orchids can mean "admiration and respect". Gardenia can mean "purity, love, and refinement."
> 
> Barista: The Barista Supports Them
> 
> Mrs. Wilson: She Also Supports Them
> 
> Campana: Italian for bells
> 
> Camellia Flowers: can mean admiration, perfection, gratitude
> 
> Chardonnay: a type of white wine
> 
> Flamingo Prop: Good Night Sweet Prince And May A Flight Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest
> 
> Sweet Pea Flowers: can mean "good-bye".


End file.
